


dollar doll

by geniewish



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Attempt at Humor, Ballet, Body Worship, Dancing, Group Sex, HyungWonho - Freeform, M/M, Open Relationships, Past Relationship(s), Pole Dancing, Polyamory, Praise Kink, Smoking, Smut, Songfic, boys in bodysuits, cameos of members from other groups, its not angsty they only fight once lol, kihyuk are the gagging duo, kinky clothing, lots of direct and indirect body worship, mentions of past minor character death, mild kinky sex, no other ships prevent hwh from happening so dont worry, seventy percent of this fic is dancing, slow burn but not really, they're lovely tho pls give them love, versatile hyungwonho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-06-15 05:33:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 44,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15406098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geniewish/pseuds/geniewish
Summary: Hyungwon never looked at the men below him – he was higher than that, better than that, he was gorgeous and he knew it, - he was on the pedestal while the rest of the world was at his feet, even when it was Hyungwon himself who was kneeling down.or Wonho goes through a thousand stages of love and obsession, and Hyungwon learns to deal with unreasonable affection again.





	1. you were a stranger

**Author's Note:**

> so, this is my very much promised stripper au fic. i have some of it written so i'll try to be consistent with the updates. 
> 
> it's 70% dancing (dirty and pure), 20% character and relationship development, 10% sexual thoughts and 1.5% plot lol
> 
> it's not actually slow burn, but it is slow in the beginning. it does gain speed quiet quickly when it hits so brace yourself.
> 
> thank you so much to kae my dear beta for agreeing to stick with me through this long ass journey!! 
> 
> comments and kudos are really appreciated! thank you so much for supporting this when i was screaming about it on twt, and i hope you enjoy!

And the curtains fell.

So did Wonho's heart.

The light turned off, and his brain with it.

There weren't actually any curtains, but when the darkness covered the stage in her transparent fog again, shivers poked at Wonho's skin and his heartbeat picked up. A soft, astonished exhale left his dry lips as the muted EDM music pushed through his ears and he blinked, coming back to reality. Wow, was the only thing on his mind. Wow, maybe I'm in love, at first sight, at first move, at first slutdrop, and now there was no way back. He fell.

Wonho didn't plan on at first when he rubbed the finished cigarette stub against the dirty wall of the building he was leaning on, waiting for his friend to meet him and drag him to his potential future place of work. He wanted to transfer to another club, his previous job had gotten boring and co-workers annoying. He was a stripper, primarily, and with the great reaction he usually received to his performances he never expected to work that much as a waiter, walking among the visitors in his leather booty shorts and dispatching drinks left and right, but that was pretty much all he was doing. It was... not quite what he enjoyed, so he asked Namjoon, his friend and the manager of his own club, to possibly get him a place. Tonight was supposed to be his private friendly tour around the club with that weird complicated name, even though it was a Saturday night and the place was bound to be filled with visitors. It was buried somewhere between those crowded nightlife streets, but it had a very good reputation. The best actually, from what he had heard. Namjoon was probably disgustingly rich on entrance fees alone.

He saw his friend stumbling out from a corner, approaching him with fast long steps, and Wonho smiled, happy to see the other man. “Hey, Joon,” he elongated the vowels in the other’s nickname and greeted Namjoon with a fist-bump and a hug. He already smelled like nightlife. It was a good smell.

“Haven't seen you in a while, how have you been?” Namjoon exclaimed and looked over Wonho up and down, keeping a hand on his shoulder, probably mentally giving him a tick for the nice choice of clothing. Wonho looked good today, objectively, he really did.

They turned to the neighbouring street, and the muffled noise filled his ears, bass thumping against the walls and the ground they walked on, and there was a gathering of people - men, mostly, - young and not so young, vaping, smoking, drinking and laughing in front of this massive mahogany door and nicely designed in cursive neon sign above it. _Monstrose Xtraordinaire_ was the name of the club. A gay club with the best bar, service, and strippers, as all the reviews preached. The outside seemed to leave a good impression so far.

Namjoon nodded at the bodyguards and patted one on the shoulder, and they both sneaked past them into the smoky dark hall, music immediately getting louder and inflaming Wonho's eardrums with high-pitched horn beats and low bass. Soon he was able to distinguish a female voice singing, and it was a pop song, and Wonho smiled at the familiarity. He really loved clubs, with all their professional stereo systems and DJs blasting whatever the performers requested.

There were people along the dark corridor walls, and unlike the experiences from his youth years ago, Wonho didn't feel scrutinized by the dark gazes under rare tiny lights – he felt good, like he always did. No one was really looking at him anyways, and even if someone was, it was alright - he made a living by turning heads.

He and Namjoon soon approached another pair of guards, this time sitting by a tiny table with what looked like a cash machine. There were small velvet bags that clinked with every shift of the furniture and they looked like they belonged more to a wizard that walked around medieval villages collecting taxes than this solid-looking, thirty-something year old man with a wire snaking behind his ear.

“That's our future star, I hope,” Namjoon gave Wonho a look, the one of a cunning conspiracist, “I'll pay for him later, if you insist,” he smiled at the guard, and the other man lifted his eyebrow.

“It's alright, Joon, I'll pay, I'm still just a visitor tonight.” Wonho smiled and nodded at the guard in question, mentally asking for the fee price. The guard rolled his eyes and gestured to the side, and there was a list of prices written in pretty cursive on the paper pinned to the dark velvet wall. Wonho squinted his eyes, trying to distinguish anything in the dimmed lighting, and just reached for his wallet with a moderately surprised raise of his eyebrows. He got out thirty five thousand won, handed the bills to the guard, and smiled as the man stamped the back of his hand and nodded towards the entrance with a wet click of his tongue as it brushed over his front teeth.

Namjoon patted Wonho on the back and lead him inside, though the dark velvet curtain, and the intense bright light hit his face.

The place was big, definitely larger than his old club, and the architecture was outstanding, even though it was hard to describe it in one style. While they descended the neon purple stairs with built-in lights under the matte glass, Wonho observed whatever he could – the high dome-like ceiling with engraved pictures on it, dark leather sofas and velvet armchairs, round mahogany tables, the black bar counter with equally spaced out streaks of neon lights, belting around the counter wall, and white highlights underneath the glass shelves with tons of alcohol bottles behind the quick skillful bartenders, the DJ stand right over there, on the other end of the hall. Wonho could count at least ten different shades of purple and pink shining upon the otherwise dark massive room, and all the noise was gathered around the big, H-shaped stage and frivolous dancers warming the poles and the visitors' attention. Wonho held in a stunned gasp at the stage, that amazing technical stage, with the usual line of poles standing right at the back, near where he assumed the performers gathered. The podium then extended right from the middle, leading perpendicular to the second stage that formed a somewhat rounded cross. Two poles were on either side, the circle edges of the stage bulging and giving Wonho not so out-of-place phallic images, and the round middle of the stage stood out, sporting the highest empty pole, most likely reserved for special performers. The stage looked fantastic, a simply genius design, with its neon lights hidden underneath the glass like that of stairs he just walked down; they changed colour by the magical hand of the technicians that were probably hidden somewhere at the back room. Right now it was magenta, occasionally flowing into darker purple, really living up to the rose part of the club name.

"So this is why it's called 'Monstrose'? Like 'monster-rose'?" Wonho asked his friend, approval and excitement probably evident on his face as he literally shined from the inside at the perspective of working there.

Namjoon chuckled, crinkling his eyes and patting him on the back again. "Actually, it's the name of a cactus," he stretched his mouth down funnily, and Wonho raised his brows in surprise. "It's the type that grows more branches, eventually forming either something ugly or pretty, so we thought it fits the idea of a bunch of dudes being gay but looking good, you know what I mean? Extraordinary gay - maybe we all have this ugly greedy soul, but the outside is just so extravagantly appealing." Namjoon blubbered, narrowing his eyes a little and quirking his eyebrows quizzically. His lids seemed hooded with alcohol he probably drank before meeting Wonho, and he was clearly not sure about what he was saying as he tilted his head to the side and released a very deep 'uh', but for Wonho it was enough. Extravagantly appealing. Like the huge cathedral-like ceiling with dark chandeliers and the old wooden floor, developed audio engineering and hi-tech lighting system, male dancers in lacy thigh highs and very skilfully applied makeup, bartenders with eyeliner and in white shirts, expensive looking suits with whiskey glasses of the guests and black Chanel bags on bony knees of high street fashionistas. And magenta, magenta everywhere.

Extraordinary indeed. He loved it.

Wonho stood in the middle of the world he wanted to merge himself with, and he loved it, from the first beat drop and the first waiter approaching him to ask if he would have liked anything for a drink.

“What have I been drinking before?” Namjoon shouted through the music, and the waiter just shook her head an ‘I don’t know’ with a funny arch of her lips. She was just dressed in a white shirt and black pants, similar to the bartenders, and held a tray, and Wonho realised he was too early for the dancers’ service yet, which was why the atmosphere seemed too relaxed. Those usually started during special stages, and for now there were only warm-up dancers walking between the poles on the far stage and on the counters by the walls, and they looked like they deserved this – the spotlight and the cash. In Wonho’s dictionary it meant they were hot.

There seemed to be a theme tonight – all the strippers were wearing black leather over-the-knee boots and had smokey eye makeup, if Wonho could see it right from such a distance, and they had most of their bodies covered in some kind of fabric. It looked dynamic – magenta lighting drawing patterns on the dark high walls and the ceiling, matte magenta stage, glossy magenta headphones on the DJs head, and the elastic dancers covered in classic black. There must have been a theme.

“Do you have any specific cocktails that are only exclusive for this place?” Wonho asked loudly through the music, and the waiter pursued her lips in thought.

“Pink Cactus Martini?” she turned to look at Namjoon, and the other man mouthed something along the lines of ‘I think so’.

“There’s that, it’s basically vodka and rose liqueur. Then there’s Bloody Desert, which is also vodka and strawberry liqueur with some tropical juice. There’s also the Fuchsia Mojito, which,” she leaned forward and looked around, like she was about to tell Wonho a secret, “in my honest opinion, is pure perversion, because there are more blueberries and sugar than actual liquid, but, well, to each their own.”

Namjoon snickered somewhere by his side and put a hand on Wonho’s shoulder. “We’ll just have two Whiskey Marmalade, thank you.” He smiled until his dimples caught the light of a moving magenta LED lamp, and the waiter just nodded and left.

“You are really dedicated to your idea of monster-roses, aren’t you.” Wonho laughed and lightly punched the other man on the shoulder.

“Gotta stay truthful to the name!” Namjoon shouted and cheered out of nowhere, turning to look at the stage. Wonho just noticed that the lights got dimmer and less intense in their movements, deeper purple radiated off the matte glass, and the dancers left the stage one by one and into the audience, and DJ switched his music to some relax FM, taking his headphones off and turning to his laptop, probably making sure the track for the special stage was about to begin. It was like a whole concert. Wonho felt his fingertips tingling with excitement, as he couldn’t wait for the first stage to begin. Would it be a solo? A group? A duo? Maybe even a trio, as there were three poles on the front stage, and he stood right in front of the middle one, though lots of meters away. The table right by this part of the stage must have been the luckiest and with tons of money, and Wonho didn’t know whether he wanted to be the one receiving or giving cash. Even though he was a pole dancer and stripper himself, he always enjoyed others’ performances, be it for the aesthetic or genuine raw sexual energy. He loved his job as much as he loved being the one paying to see it.

The waiter brought their whiskey cocktails on her tray, and Namjoon reached for his wallet to get a few pieces of banknotes out, and Wonho’s eyes widened at the amount. It was more than the entrance fee, although the other man was paying for the two of them. This red jelly-looking thing had to be good, he had his hopes. He sipped through the straw, pleased that none of the jellies on the bottom got through, and mentally gave the cocktail a tick. He just really didn’t want the jellies.

Namjoon, on the other hand, moved his jaws repeatedly and looked quite ecstatic. Wonho just smiled at his friend - the other was always an experimental drinker and liked pretty much everything.

The lights dimmed down completely, dragging loud cheers out of the audience. Wonho joined Namjoon and another hundreds of people he couldn’t distinguish in the dark and released a high-pitched noise, thrill reaching the top of his lungs and cracking his voice in the middle. He was beyond excited. Delighted, overjoyed, captured. The place was amazing, the service seemed awesome, and even the strangely named drinks with jellies on the bottom were pleasant to his taste buds, and the atmosphere of his old club barely compared to the one here. It smelled like money, expensive perfume, roses and magenta, magenta everywhere. It was as if he could feel the colour with all his senses, and even in the dark, barely lit matte lights underneath the stage created some sort of magenta shield along the catwalk. The catwalk on which a black physical shadow moved towards the front stage, and even though it was impossible to see the silhouette in its rightful shape, Wonho could feel the presence of a diva right in front of him, meters away, so light in his weight and heavy in his impact. Wonho instantly became poetic when it came to his job.

The stationary lights in front of the far stage swung back up, painting the ceiling in all colours of the rainbow, and the subsurface light brightened to the maximum, illuminating the figure on stage in white. The dancer was wearing black leather shorts, black top, black jacket, black knee high boots, and his hair was yellow, wavy and ruffled, and Wonho mentally patted himself on the black for guessing the theme of the evening. Classic, but it was a Saturday night, so maybe classic wasn’t that bad for such a huge amount of people.

The first bass note hit his ears, and Wonho immediately recognised Ariana’s ‘Into You’, and quirked his head to the side, a little bit taken aback by the arbitrary choice of the popular song. Everyone danced to Ariana. He expected this club to have a wider variety of music.

“He’s on the warm-up today because he worked last night as the special performance, so we just decided to let him do whatever tonight,” Namjoon said in his ear, in normal volume, because the song had just started and hadn’t reached its beat drop yet. “Pretty sure half of this is going to improvised,” the other snickered and downed his whiskey, holding the glass in both hands and seemingly lost at the lack of waiters around him to take it away.

Wonho pursued his lips in thought, understanding where his friend was coming from with the ‘worked hard last night, relaxed tonight’ kind of mindset, and just focused on stage, maybe just slightly disappointed that he chose such a simple day to come see the greatest gay club in the city and got greeted with the most magnificent stage and such ordinary common theme. Maybe the main special would be good, it had to be.

_Oh baby, look what you started_ , Wonho really tuned into the performance at his favourite part, and the dancer dropped on his knees and waved his hips in sharp short body rolls, fitting two jerks of his body between the finger clicks in the pre-chorus, mouthing the background ‘ooh’s and directing his gaze right in the audience, and Wonho’s perceptions finally clicked with the music before the song went into the chorus. The dancer was, in fact, extremely attractive. His long wavy bangs with streaks of glitter in the strands covered his eyes, and the black sparks of his irises glistered when the dancer lowered his chin and looked up from underneath, and his mouth formed the silent words and his lips glittered with soft pink lip gloss, which he clearly put in layers and layers, somehow increasing the volume of his rather thin but gently shaped lips, and Wonho wanted to drag a finger along his bottom lip to collect the gloss from them and make his fingertips sticky. Truthfully, he adored makeup. He really, really did.

The dancer climbed on the pole some time ago, but Wonho was too engaged in admiring the sparks of highlighter on his round protruding cheekbones, and the white light threw shadows onto his hollow cheeks, and his jawline was so well-shaped, so sharp, and the movement of his mouth harmonized with the muscles of his jaws, and Wonho couldn’t tear his gaze away. The dance was secondary – it was good, the movements were good – but he could only reward an A plus for the visual. His face was amazing, simply mesmerizing. His body – Wonho twitched his head from side to side, curving his lips in thought and trying not to be too judgemental – was about a B, but a very high B, because the plasticity of the dancer’s spine could easily win for the slightly rectangular waist, and the split with which he threw his leg over the pole, capturing it with the bent knee, and straightening the other leg on the ground, was honestly quite impressive. His butt even seemed rounder. And he mouthed the words with the most daring expression he could muster, crinkling his nose and smiling with the corners of his mouth, forming soft wrinkles in the corners, and Wonho admitted to be enraptured.

By the end of the performance, the dancer only threw his jacket somewhere off the stage, and generally stayed in all his attire, finishing with a split in the middle of the stage at the abrupt ending of the song and a huge smile on his face, and Wonho happily joined the audience in applause and cheering.

Wonho wanted to see the dancer up close. “Well, that was nice,” he smiled and turned to Namjoon.

“He is actually our veteran now, been working here since forever.” The other was already slurring in his speech, which pulled out a laugh from Wonho, and he patted the man on the shoulder.

They ordered more cocktails as they watched two more performances, both of which were good but quite similar, and when the lights switched back to classic magenta and slow house beats filled the space again, Wonho realised that the real special performance was coming. A man in working black uniform climbed on stage, a technician, probably, and started fixing the center pole, checking whether it was spinning, and his further excitement was rising just like the blabbering of the people around him, and he really, seriously strived to see who the next performer was. He had to be amazing, he simply had to.

The lights turned off again, and there was an explosion of encouraging cheers, and Wonho screamed too, clapping around the glass he was holding. The shadow materialized in the middle of the stage, and the soft yellow illuminated the room as the stage radiated in tropical colours, teasing with the silhouette behind the pole but not revealing in fully. The high saxophone melody jumped off the walls and hit Wonho’s eardrums, and low sensual female whisper filled the space, and the audience was covered in the dark while the under the stage lights flowed from dirty orange to strawberry red, and finally, the dancer was in the spotlight. The singers airily introduced themselves to the tune of music, and Wonho awed at the choice of the song – ‘Beautiful Liar’ by his favourite powerhouse Beyoncé and Shakira – and the figure on stage swayed his hips to the side, raising his arms and bending his knees just slightly, to push his hips as much as possible, and he dropped the pose immediately when the drums hit and Beyoncé started singing, and Wonho maybe lost his breath.

The dancer was dancing, as dumb as it sounded in tautology, but he was pulling off moves. Choreographed movements of the hands and legs, as much as it was possible to dance in high-heeled leather boots, and it was going so fast Wonho lost himself. The dancer’s figure, his face, his movements – what the fuck does he focus on? His wavy silk black bangs were ruffled and fell on his eyes, and his mouth was still, he didn’t mouth the lyrics, he parted his thick pale lips, probably covered in concealer and transparent sparkly gloss, and with the way he was holding his head – straight and only turning to the side if the dance required so, he barely looked into the audience, barely paid anyone any attention, looking so immersed in his own movements and human superiority, and so superior his was.

Wonho gasped when the dancer spread his arms over his head at ‘kiss me’, and his thin black leather blazer opened up more and the light slid over his torso, and he was wearing a black corset, tight and curvy, and Wonho barely withheld groan when he traced the wave of his tiny waist with his eyes, clutched in thick fabric and probably squeezing his organs. And it looked so good, holy shit, he could kill for a guy in a corset, he really could. He would kill to see the sliver of skin between the end of the garment and the tight leather pants up close, and he would slaughter just to untie the laces at the back and see the waist that suffered this much pain just to be compressed into the attire, which he had no doubt that it was as thin as it seemed to be, and – oh, my god, he just noticed. When the lights switched to yellow again and the dancer became even clearer, he could see the black spots of the nipple pasties on the flat lean chest, and the shadows fell into the ridges of the bones when the dancer curved his spine and did body waves, and Wonho really couldn’t help but feel funny in his stomach at the way his body seemed impossibly bendable, elastic, even in the tight corset and that annoying jacket that hid the back.

_Let’s not kill the karma_ , and the dancer held the pole, _Let’s not start a fight_ , and he turned around and rubbed his back, closing his eyes and parting his lips, letting his hair fall to the sides, _It’s not worth the drama_ , and he turned around again and grabbed the pole with both hands, appropriate distance apart and thumbs facing outwards, _For a beautiful liar_ , and the dancer jumped up, head down and legs spreading in a perfect side split, and Wonho really breathed out an astonished sigh at the way the dancer held himself. His legs were so long and thin but full of little bulges of the muscles, and he grabbed the pole with the inside of the right bent knee and pulled his upper body up, hands stroking over the clothed stomach, and span on the pole, changing positions as he did, and suddenly dropped on his knees as the chorus finished, raising his head slowly to Beyoncé’s ‘I trusted him’, and grinded on the place, swaying his hips back and forth in incredibly smooth motions. Wonho really, really wanted to hold those hips.

The dimmed red light didn’t allow him to see the face in all the details, but he didn’t have to when he knew the body could do all the work, its composition and its flexibility, its strength and its smoothness, and he didn’t even need to question why this dancer was on the special stage tonight.

He finally took off his jacket and threw it to the side, and a tiny smile possibly played on his lips as he got up and slid to the center of the stage again, and Wonho could admire the firm yet small butt and how the light reflected on the leather surface of the pants, and he breathed out again when the dancer kept standing back to the audience at the front stage and slid his hands down his thighs, pushing his hips just a tiny bit back, just enough to stretch the fabric over the flesh and cause an inadequately excited reaction from the audience and Wonho himself, and when the second chorus started abruptly, the dancer dropped down into a split.

The skill it took to grind so well on the floor with the legs fully stretched out and hitting it right on the beat. Yes, Wonho could even twerk in that position, considering his much thicker size and the fact that he was a no less amazing dancer, but the way the thin figure on the stage executed every single movement was just beyond his amazement. It was the sexiness Wonho didn’t want to possess, it was the sexiness he wanted to admire and quietly take in from the side; the dancer was the kind of person he wanted to get on his knees for and just beg to touch, he was the type to ignore the attention and find satisfaction in his own superiority, and Wonho got it, he really did, he met dancers like that, but something so inherently… beautiful the man on the stage owned that made Wonho absolutely weak. Maybe it was the face that he could muster when the light turned brighter, the pretty curve of the jaws and the small profile, the way the thick lips parted, the way the big eyes sparkled underneath the black hair, the way the side profile of the nose and the chin and the neck formed a soft wave when the dancer threw his head back, and there was something so unusual about it, the crazy features, the amazing movement of the long thin body that couldn’t possibly move like that if it belonged to someone else, and Wonho just really, really enjoyed looking at him.

The dancer climbed up the pole and did full body waves, holding himself up with only his arms, and Wonho admired the way the small but dense biceps twitched, how the veins formed under the skin that seemed golden and raspberry and crimson under the ever-changing light, and when he held himself up on the bent legs again and threw his head down, curving his spine, and when his hair fell down and revealed the smooth line of his forehead, when he opened his mouth and moved his arms in smooth waves at the sides, when he just looked so ethereal and unbelievable and so, so good, Wonho’s heart really stopped.

_Just a beautiful liar_ , and the dancer dropped down, landing on his knees and lowering his head, hair hiding his whole face, and Wonho’s heart dropped too, and this is how he found himself where he was, possibly and desperately in love with a body he saw for four short minutes on stage but that seemed like four miserable seconds. He wanted more.

Shit, he really wanted to see more. It wasn’t every day that he admitted someone else’s superiority, when he found someone he admired so much he wanted to both take their place and just be close to them at the same time. He didn’t know what he wanted, he really didn’t, the only thing he knew was that he nearly choked on his sweet whiskey with how fast he drowned it to calm his racing heart. He needed to work here.

The DJ switched back to low bass house music and the magenta hit his face, and Wonho turned to Namjoon with near teary eyes and twitching eyebrows, and his mouth was wavering, and his chin was a crinkly walnut, and his cheeks had a rosy blush (at least that was how they felt), and the other man laughed at him.

“He’s good, my man, he’s good,” Namjoon wheezed and patted Wonho’s cheek, and Wonho pouted, not at his friend but at his own sappy self, and he didn’t quite understand the sadness that filled his chest.

“Let’s got for a smoke,” Wonho mumbled and nudged Namjoon to go up with him. They left their glasses on the bar counter, climbed the magenta stairs and exited through the first mahogany door, nodding at the guards that, as the owner said, had a really good face memory, and finally fell out into the streets. Cool night breeze hit Wonho’s face and he inhaled, filling his lungs with oxygen, passive smoking and relief, pushing the weird stone of yearning out.

He lighted a cigarette and took a drag, and his heart relaxed at the familiar feeling of approaching death and deteriorating health, and he met Namjoon’s gaze with a smile.

“So, auditioning?” the other asked and smoked as well, and Wonho furiously nodded with too much obvious eagerness.

“Yes, please!” he made a begging puppy expression, and Namjoon laughed with puffs of smoke coming out of his mouth.

“Don’t be so needy, I want you here too.” The other stumbled in his place, legs weak and detached from his alcohol-filled mind, and Wonho extended his arm to help his friend stay still.

“When?” he really, really wanted to work here.

“Well, we’re working tomorrow, so on a weekday, but I don’t think Won or Min are here on Monday to show you around and explain,” Namjoon hiccupped, “the ethic of the club, so maybe Tuesday? Tuesday good?” he asked, and Wonho nodded with the same intensity as before.

“Yes, brilliant, I’ll be here at whatever time you like and I will even learn a special routine, I really want to work here!” Wonho blurted out in one breath, and even in the dark of the street, only illuminated by the dim dirty orange light of the streetlamps and hot pink neon sign of the club, he was sure the other could see the most genuine feelings carved somewhere in the bottom of his irises, and Namjoon hummed sleepily, thoughts barely forming in his head.

“Come at twelve or something, I’ll text you all the details later.” With that they both threw their cigarette butts on the ground and said their goodbyes, Namjoon returning back to the cub and Wonho going home to contemplate his easy heart.

 

He spent the next two days in a weird melancholic abstraction, dancing around his pole at home and shopping, because those were the two things he was exceptionally good at. Wonho made a new routine, the one he was going to show at the audition, and found his old poetic spirit. In the middle of his Sunday shopping spree he had sat in Starbucks and gotten his laptop out just to create a new note and write a poem about his weak heart and his weak mind and the fragile-looking but strong man he admired dancing on the amazing stage, and he was sad. Not in a heartbreaking way, but in a pouty puppy way, like he was left home alone and had nothing to do without his owner, and he was lonely.

During evenings, when he gathered all his physical strength and real mental power he actually possessed, he choreographed a new dance and admired himself in the mirror, shirt off and sweatpants tights around his thighs, and he felt competitive and absolutely totally superior when he was cracking his knuckles and observing the way his forearms flexed at such a simple movement. In all honesty, he was awesome. He was Wonho, he was cool as fuck and he was going to get a job at the super cool club to woo the guests and his future colleagues, and possibly, just maybe, the pretty dude he fell in infatuation with. He didn’t even see his face properly, but he knew he was probably gorgeous, he couldn’t not be, his body didn’t match an ordinary face. Excitement filled Wonho’s heart yet again, and he wistfully span on the pole in no particular pose, imagining the pretty dancer’s waist underneath the corset and how flexible it must’ve been. He was so in deep, he really was.

Tuesday came, and he got ready, warmed up, stretched, practiced, worked out, washed up again and got ready to leave at eleven sharp, so overly excited about the audition that he suddenly became punctual. He arrived in time and waited for Namjoon to come out outside the main entrance, because he wasn’t supposed to know the back one yet, and decided against smoking to keep his lungs and his own smell in the best condition for the day. His friend opened the club door a few minutes later and hurried Wonho in. They hugged in a rush.

“I got my boys practicing soon, we’re having a new format for next Saturday and we have to figure out the timing and if we can fit a group while keeping everyone safe in the dark and get in time for the music switch, oh god,” Namjoon blabbered as they speed-walked down the hall and through the second door and down the stairs, and Wonho forgot to listen to his friend as he entered the same huge room that was so familiar but so, so different in the daylight. Well, there was no daylight as it was practically underground, but the high dome ceiling seemed so unreachable when the normal white light from the equipment and stage lamps illuminated the whole place in natural lighting, revealing every little thing, and Wonho barely withheld from opening his mouth.

“Well, this is where the magic happens,” Namjoon casually said and smiled cutely to reveal his dimples, before he woke up and shook his with eyes full of realization, “Wait, you’ve been here on Saturday, not Sunday, you didn’t actually get for the show.” He covered his eyes with his palm and sighed. “It’s okay, you have lots of time to see it.”

The walls were stone and grey, and the chairs and the tables were all gone or pushed to the sides and revealed the black wooden floor, which was dusty and with footprints running along and across the place, and the stage was dull, and the overhead safety technology was so visible with its silver weaves and black wires and lights hidden in between all that metal, and Wonho still loved it, he loved it so much. It was what was happening behind the scenes that made the show, whatever that show was in the language of Monstrose Xtraordinaire. 

“Jim! In! Ki! Hyun!” Namjoon shouted at the stage, bending in half and screaming each syllables with such strength and clarity that veins popped on his neck and his face flushed. “Someone! Down! Now!” he coughed at the effort and shook his head. “Got to stop smoking so much,” he mumbled, and Wonho chuckled. Namjoon wasn’t an athlete, he was a businessman, and the amount of stress and work he put into the club seemed to really get on his health. Wonho couldn’t relate.

“The main dressing room is upstairs, but I’m too lazy to walk all the way there, so screaming is pretty essential in here.” Namjoon elaborated and sighed, getting out his phone.

Wonho heard the shuffling of steps and someone’s exasperated blabbering, and two young men appeared from behind the far stage, right from the corner, and Wonho really wanted to get to the back, see the dressing rooms, check the toilets, check out the dancers, find a space in the parking lot in front of the back entrance, if there was one. There probably was.

The two men were smiling widely as they approached Namjoon and him, and they were both taller than Wonho and skinny, if the fluttering sweatpants around their long legs could indicate, and the warm Uggs on their feet reminded him of the ballet classes he took back in his teenage years. Wonho caught himself mentally sliding down the men’s bodies for an inappropriate amount of time and quickly brought his gaze to their faces. Oh, he knew one of them.

“That’s Minhyuk and Bambam, but they’re a bad influence,” Namjoon was about to carry on but suddenly turned to the dancers and spread his arms in a questioning gesture, “I called the shorties, why are you here?” he asked the newcomers in a low voice and rolled his eyes when the two grinned and winked, not even expecting an answer. “Whatever, they’ll show you to the single,” Namjoon widened his eyes and emphasised the last word, turning to the duo again, “dressing room.” And the latters nodded, small smiles playing in the corners of their lips, and Wonho couldn’t help the smile that threatened to break his expression at the sight of the pretty dancer he laid his eyes on back on Saturday. Not The Dancer dancer, but the one with the pretty face.

“I’m Lee Minhyuk!” now Wonho knew his name too. The man with the gorgeous face smiled and waved his hand, and Wonho was a little bit lost with his etiquette for a second, unsure whether to act according to his image or just follow the flow. He couldn’t really act fast. The pretty dancer’s makeupless face was so close to his, and he looked amazingly natural and good with his dry bleached hair and a soft golden shine of his round cheekbones, and Wonho admired the way his mouth spread to reveal big front teeth, and how unusual wrinkles and dimples formed around his nose and in the corners of his eyes, and his voice was so creaky and hoarse, and he liked it, it woke him up even though he wasn’t really sleepy.

“I’m Wonho.” He smiled widely instead and wiggled his fingers in a playful way, and the other of the two men copied him.

“I’m Bambam.” He did a plié and quirked his brow in a sassy way, and Wonho was lost for a second yet again, but Minhyuk grabbed his hand and moved towards the far stage, and he didn’t even notice Namjoon simply vanishing.

“He’s Thai, don’t pay him attention,” Minhyuk said, and Bambam gasped loudly and slapped the other’s shoulder with a quick thin hand. Minhyuk let go of his wrist and slapped his friend – and he assumed they were friends – back and nodded in his direction threateningly, and they started bickering. Wonho didn’t really hear the words, didn’t really understand the words, he was busy catching onto the details of the other man’s face he couldn’t see before, such as his long neck and the bulging Adam’s apple, and the way his lower and plumper lip curled downwards naturally from the side, and how his jawline was so sharp and long and how it rounded at the pointy chin. He talked fast. To Wonho he seemed like the person he could either love loyally or hate passionately, and so far his emotions had been only positive. Wonho hoped to meet The Dancer dancer soon, so he didn’t have to control his heart too much and just be focused on one person he dreamed of the past two days. This person was not Minhyuk, and he really had to calm down before he flipped and turned to someone else.

Bambam jumped in front of them and fitted in the space between the stage and the wall, and there were wires everywhere, and they moved forward until there was space again, and Wonho smiled as he looked around and found himself backstage, in the real backstage. The stage wasn’t as rectangular from the back, and the space for the black stairs was further into the center, which gave the dancers lots of space to line up and run up and down into the corridor, the corridor Wonho knew was the second home to many. It wasn’t too wide, maybe two and a half meters between the walls, but it seemed so long as it was dark and the light wooden floor merged with the black at the end of the corridor, all the way there, all the way at the old white door that fit the white shabby cornices that contrasted with the soothing colour of the walls. It was a mix of navy blue and very dark grey, and they were so surprisingly clean: no dick drawings, no scratches, no spots, and Wonho started to get scared to imagine just how dedicated and hardworking the dancers here were that they didn’t even draw genitals with their names on the walls backstage. Wild. Even Wonho did that in his old club.

“So, here are dressing rooms for the special performers, they don’t belong to anyone and we just share depending on the day,” Minhyuk started loudly and opened one of the white doors on the left as they moved further into the corridor, revealing a spacious dressing room with a long white table with three mirrors and a couch, and Wonho didn’t have time to look further as Minhyuk started closing the door. “Then there are more rooms here, then there are toilets on the right and showers on the left, you want to see?” the other turned around to look at him, and Wonho wasn’t sure what he wanted.

“I don’t even work here yet,” he tried, and Minhyuk huffed with a funny half-laughing face.

“Oh, you will, Namjoon wants to hire you, so feel free to piss if you need to.”

“Yeah, literally, he was like, muscles! We have to hire muscles!” Bambam joined, and the two laughed at his exaggerated representation of Namjoon’s drunken voice, and Wonho laughed too.

“He called me ‘muscles’?” he asked, genuinely surprised, and Minhyuk nonchalantly reached to squeeze his bicep.

“Well, yeah.” He flashed a cute smile, puffing his cheeks and hiding his lips in a flat line, and turned around to move further into the corridor. “The stairs here lead to the main dressing room, we’re all there now, so here you go.” They stopped in front of the black metal stairs that were trapped within the wall, and there was a vague noise heard from upstairs.

“Where is he going to get changed now though?” Bambam asked, and Minhyuk widened his eyes under an immediate frown that formed on his face, and he looked funny.

“Right, audition,” he sighed, dramatically stressed out, and stomped in the opposite direction, towards the doors of private dressing rooms. “Here, you can stop there for now.” he opened a random door and held it for Wonho to come in. “I’m going to call Namjoon, do you need a specific set up for the pole?” he ducked inside and turned the light switch on, and the room illuminated in white, reflecting off the white walls and white tables.

“Just spinning, thank you.” With that Minhyuk smiled and closed the door behind him, leaving Wonho alone in the dressing room. He shrugged and dropped his bag on the brown leather couch at the back and went to check out the mirror lights. The big round white bulbs brightened up immediately when Wonho found the switch on the wall next to the mirror, and he couldn’t help but stare at his reflection, round white spots of light dancing in his irises. He loved mirrors in dressing rooms. They saw everything.

Wonho’s style was different to the dancers in this club. Not that much, but taking his built and body in consideration, he always tried to circle his image around it, going with the classics but adding something of his own. He was the one people – men – wanted. He was hot, strong, had amazing hips and arms, and he never denied visitors in his old club the chance to lick tequila off his sculpted abdomen and pat his firm pectoral muscles. He loved the appreciation. It was… getting boring, though.

No one expected him to go down. Literally.

He put on leashes and long chokers and went ecstatic every single time someone tugged at it a little too harshly, and he loved bending down and tease with a little hole cut in the middle of his tight pants that grew larger with every movement. The amount of pants he had to throw away, really, it was huge. But so worth it. He just also hoped that maybe strippers in Monstrose Xtraordinaire could teach him their own ways, something Wonho wouldn’t necessarily consider new but something he had never done firsthand. This was what he called education.

So Wonho took of his clothes, put on the oh-so-familiar protective thongs he really only wore for dancing, and jumped into black leggings. They gave the illusion of leather pants, but real ones were uncomfortable for doing splits, so he tried to act smart. He should’ve just worn his sports shorts, he was just auditioning, he wouldn’t even have an audience, so why did he prepare so seriously? He was that desperate to get this job, wasn’t he. Well, it wasn’t a bad thing to be motivated, Wonho loved motivation, he loved working hard and going a little bit out of his ways to impress, which perfectly justified exactly why he brought suspenders too.

And chose ‘Pour It Up’ as his audition song. Classic. He was classic. He loved pop and Rihanna, and he just didn’t have a better idea after watching that pretty dude – Minhyuk, he met him already, for fuck’s sake, his name was Minhyuk – dancing to Ariana, so maybe going original really wasn’t a part of his plan.

At least his body was nice. Even Namjoon appreciated it, and as far as Wonho could judge, bulky guys weren’t the hot thing in his club. The only ones he saw were on the warm-up on Saturday, and they all spread in the audience to offer lap dances and whatnot. The stage performers were absolutely different to what he was used to. But they were so beautiful. Wonho wanted to meet the whole troupe.

Which was why he slapped his cheeks a couple of times and shook his limbs, stretched for a bit, checking himself out in the mirror and gathering all his confidence in his bloodstream, and he was ready to go. He slipped into his slippers, because the floor was dirty and he didn’t want to get his bare feet dusty, and exited the dressing room.

Wonho didn’t know where to go or what to do. No one was waiting by the door, the backstage was empty, and there was only a vague muttering in the main hall. He squeezed himself between the wall and the stage and tumbled into the open space, and his eyes immediately fell on Namjoon, Minhyuk and one other short guy he hadn’t seen yet.

“Oh, Wonho, you’re all dressed up!” Namjoon exclaimed when he saw him approaching, and Wonho felt three pairs of eyes looking over him head to toe, and he fell like at work again. He missed the feeling.

Namjoon patted him on the chest, stretched one suspender, hummed, pressing a hand to his chin, and nodded approvingly. Wonho didn’t know what else to do other than smile and turned to Minhyuk and the man with the short black hair next to him. Minhyuk jerked and shook his head, as if trying to get out of trance, and pointed at the short guy.

“That’s Kihyun, he’s short, don’t talk to him, he’s useless.” Wonho had a déjà vu, and Minhyuk had a slap on his shoulder from the shorter man, and Namjoon rolled his eyes. Kihyun extended his hand in a very straight manner.

“Yoo Kihyun, Broadway star.” No, he wasn’t that straight, just a little straightforward, maybe, and Wonho smiled and shook his hand. Did Namjoon really throw Broadway shows in his gay strip club?

“Well, okay,” Namjoon raised his eyebrow at Minhyuk and Kihyun, and the two stopped hitting each other’s the arms, “Wonho,” the other emphasised his name and folded his hands under his nose in a praying gesture, and Wonho could recognize the collected clever businessman Kim Namjoon that he knew and clasped his own hands in front of his stomach, ready to listen and be a diligent worker. “Wonho, you’re going to dance, we’re going to approve you – most likely – and we’re going to tell you the plan for the future, so tell me the music first and climb right up.”

Namjoon got his phone out, and Wonho told him the song, and, as expected, the other obviously had it. Minhyuk and Kihyun continued staring at him (his chest, maybe), and Wonho could catch their thoughtful faces in his peripheral.

“Yeah, great pecs,” Minhyuk said nonchalantly, like he seemed to say every single thing, and lightly slapped his right chest muscle. The hit took Wonho off guard and he wavered, taking half a step back, and wasn’t sure how close he could get with a man he talked to for the first – second – time in his life. Wonho decided against asking Minhyuk about his overly extroverted personality traits and just waited for Namjoon to walk to the stereo and plug in his phone. Kihyun hummed, and there was a sound of a door screeching from above, probably the main entrance, and the noises mixed all together.

“What’s your workout routine?” Kihyun asked, and there was a shuffling of quick steps echoing in the dome of the ceiling.

“I just work out and generally take care of my body, I guess? It’s a very long routine, I won’t be able to explain it in two words now.”

Kihyun nodded with a weird face of approval, gaze still fixed in the area of his chest, and hummed, which he seemed to do a lot. Another door opened. “We should go work out sometime together.”

Distinctive steps ran down the matte glass stairs, and Wonho turned around to look at the newcomer. A long figure was rushing down the entrance stairs, quiet black converse shoes echoing with soft thuds, and the rest of the being was covered in a long black coat, collar up and hiding half of the face, one hand holding it all together, and the black bush of hair bounced with every step. Wonho felt something within him fall. A feeling that transcended his consciousness. A feeling that made him unable to turn away even when Minhyuk shouted.

“Oi, Hyungwon, why the fuck are you so late?” he sounded angry, and Kihyun sighed loudly.

The fully covered in black figure let go of the collar and revealed its face, and Wonho’s mind lined up with his intuitional feelings and made sense of the scene. It was him, wasn’t it? It was the dancer. The Dancer dancer, that one. 

The tall man approached the three of them and smiled shortly and a little apologetically. “I left my car at a bar and went home on a taxi and didn’t have time to grab it, so I took the tube, sorry,” he curved his ideally formed eyebrows in a repentant way, and there was a silent spark in his huge brown eyes that asked for forgiveness, and Minhyuk clicked his tongue. The man had no makeup on, and his skin glowed a smooth caramel colour, and a light blush from the cold outside tinged his cheeks and the tip of his nose. Wonho was frozen. But his voice. His voice, lazy and nasal, yet somehow so low and pleasant to listen to, his elongated vowels and how they fit with the moves of his eyebrows. Wonho was noticing too much, he head was about to overheat. But he couldn’t stop looking.

“We have this beefy man here auditioning now,” Minhyuk put a hand on his shoulder, and Wonho didn’t even budge, “and then we have to practice, we have to confirm this routine literally by Friday, are we Beyoncé-ing or are we not Beyoncé-ing, you’re so annoying.” Minhyuk rambled, and Wonho could really hear the high creaks in his voice and how naturally hoarse it was, almost painfully so, and Kihyun just hummed a ‘yeah, you thought’.

Hyungwon chuckled lightly with his mouth closed and turned to look at Wonho. A beefy man though?..

“Hi, I’m Hyungwon.” The other man extended his hand, and Wonho really short-circuited for a second, unable to process the program. He was standing half-naked in the middle of a club on a weekday, about to climb the pole, while the dancer he possibly fell in love with two days ago was looking him in the eyes with his tiny polite smile, really looking him in the eyes, the gaze of his huge doe eyes meeting Wonho’s, and he looked so peculiarly stunning up close.

Wonho wasn’t a man of any particular aesthetic, he just liked things that looked good. A lot of things in the world looked good. A burger steak in that trendy but tasty restaurant near his gym, a new makeup pallet with his favourite type of holographic glitter, a well worked-out chest and well worked-out shoulders, a cute kitten, a polished pole, a body around that pole, the man in front of him. Hyungwon was the dancer with the tiniest waist he had seen that could fit into a corset, with abnormally skinny but extremely strong arms that held his entire body levitating above the stage, with the most fluid amazing moves to kill for. Wonho knew things are known in comparison. Maybe he just never looked at people like Hyungwon. Maybe he just had to see a better performance and properly grade his feelings about this whole situation. Maybe Hyungwon was just genuinely good. And pretty. Weirdly pretty. It was the bags under his eyes that made them look bigger; it was the proportion of his face that made everything stand out; it was the thin bridge of his nose and the round nostrils that Wonho couldn’t help but return to. They were so visible. Was his nose actually that curved? That was so interesting, really, Wonho had never seen a nose like that.

“Yeah, that’s Wonho, he will dance for us to decide whether he’s a good addition to the team.” Minhyuk leaned on his shoulder, slight height difference making it more possible than desired, and Wonho held in a gasp, because he was a little bit stupid.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m Wonho, and I really want to work here.” He smiled brightly, so brightly he knew he was impossible to avert a gaze from, because his smile was also considered simply stunning and blinding, and he may have had added a tiny smirk in the corner of his mouth to cover the embarrassment and the creeping blush on his cheeks.

“Nice to meet you.” Hyungwon had the smile that hid his lips that Wonho remembered to be thicker and curvier than average, disappear, and he was a little bit sad at the fact that this was the only smile Hyungwon was willing to give. But at least his cheeks looked cute. He wasn’t wearing any foundation, and he seemed so natural and lovely with small spots on the sides of his face, tiny faint freckles under his eyes and a grey area on his chin that was probably just unshaved stubble, and Wonho forgot what his type was. He was gay for a lot of men. He never thought Hyungwon fell under that category. “I expect to see you soon then and hopefully work together.” Hyungwon gave a tiny wave and nodded at Minhyuk and Kihyun, and Wonho replayed the last sentence the tall man said. His voice was deep and his tone straightforward, it really was, not a hint of the previous whining. He wondered how biology gave people the voice they possessed, and moved his Adam’s apple, deep in his own thoughts. Minhyuk’s elbow was still on his shoulder.

“Are you going to go up there or are you going to be gay?” the guy’s face was so close to his, and Wonho jerked at the sudden voice in his ear and moved to remove the other’s arm from his body. He noticed Namjoon running back to them, and Wonho straightened. Yes, right, audition.

“Should I go on stage?” he asked, and Namjoon said yes, and Minhyuk and Kihyun exchanged glances. Clear thoughts. He was there to get a job, not a random guy. Clear thoughts. 

There were stairs at the sides of the far stage, and he ran up quickly and walked up the podium, and it felt good. He wanted to walk that catwalk for the rest of his life, surrounded by intense magenta lighting and loud cheers, and finally, his only target was the pole in front of him.

“Are you warmed up?” Namjoon asked.

“Yeah, I worked out and practiced in the morning and stretched out in the dressing room just now,” Wonho answered, stroking the smooth surface of the pole and trying it out. He held himself up with one bent arm, checking the spinning. He was confident, he was good at this.

“Ready?” Namjoon asked yet again, and Wonho nodded. He put his slippers somewhere further from the pole and took a position, while Namjoon pressed a button on a tiny white remote he was holding and aimed at the stereo near the bar. Even the bar looked dead without the baristas behind the counter.

The first beat played, the first words came out, and Wonho forgot anything around him existed. Nothing ever did when he was dancing, when he closed his eyes and felt every inch of his body rather than saw, when it was as if every single muscle in his hips and legs coordinated with the bass strings and his own neuronal signals, and he felt his legs flex on a level higher than physical when he bent his knees and swayed. He knew his body and he didn’t need to control it. He felt it.

It had its own mind, his body. When the beat dropped and the song sped up, he didn’t need to understand consciously when to thrust his hips in fast short motions and slowly descend on the floor – his body knew what to do. Wonho didn’t need to remind himself when to mouth the lyrics, when to smile and bring his arms behind his head. _I still got my money_ , he raised his eyebrow, and it was an instinctive reaction, it was the response of his every cell in his body to the thing he loved the most – music and dancing. He never had thoughts about his looks during a performance, he was never worried about being too much or being too little, he didn’t care what the audience was, how the lighting worked and how it played in the riffs of his stomach, he never had his mind set on things that didn’t matter. He didn’t need his mind at all. He only needed his body.

Wonho crawled to the pole and grabbed it, and right when the chorus hit and Rihanna went off with the vocals, he climbed up and span, back to the audience and hips moving, never stopping. He got incredible money for just grinding on inanimate objects, and he didn’t need to question why. He knew, he knew everything about his body and how it moved and which muscles contracted when he pushed his hips forward or when he pressed his hand to the floor and held himself up with his arms, and he knew how strong and good they looked.

He only had half of the song as auditions usually lasted a maximum of two minutes, and he dropped down on his knees, his round ass facing the viewers, and he shook, getting excited over the way he could turn his body loose and so impossibly fleshy from stone hard and tight in one second, and this was something he also prided himself in. He was good at a lot of things. Even when he stepped away from the pole and fell backwards on the stage just to turn on his stomach and raise his ass in the air and drop it, feeling the flesh wiggle, when he saw a moving mass of black messy hair somewhere in the corner below him, when he fought the biggest urge to stop dancing and look in the direction of the man he found himself crushing on in literal seconds, he collected himself and turned his mind off again, focusing solely on the movements his body produced and going ecstatic over the firm lines on his stomach when he curled his back in and flexed and the way his chest muscles jerked up and down at will, and he felt powerful over himself and the world around him.

Wonho gathered all his personality and all his inner diversity to get on all fours and arch his spine in and out in time with the beat, and when the music slowed down to its rightful end, he sat on his knees and ruffled his hair, breathing hard for emphasis and raising his entire rib cage and his shoulders to gather all the attention, and all the sounds in the room stopped. All, apart from the heartbeat in his ears and the echoing short claps of four people below, in front of the stage. Wonho got up, surrounding familiar and so plain, naked floor and boring light, and a beautiful man looking up at him with a thoughtful expression on his face amidst the racing thoughts in his head. When the music stopped, life began, and all the perceptions came back, all the senses returned, and the mind turned on. 

“Okay, so, going over it quickly,” Namjoon began, hand on his chin and eyes narrowed, “I like you and your dancing, you look great on stage, an absolute A for the body rolls, but we definitely need to insert that theatrical seed into you, and then you’re done and up the stage for the real thing.” Namjoon said in a hurry and smiled with raised eyebrows, waiting for Wonho to indicate that he understood what he said. He didn’t really. Not when Hyungwon was wearing black loose sweatpants and a black long t-shirt, and his collar was round and going just below his neck, and Wonho could see the peak of his collarbones.

Wonho blinked and looked at Minhyuk and Kihyun, who were standing just beside Namjoon, and his face probably looked dumb. So, what was the criticism about?

Minhyuk opened his mouth in an exaggerated smile and clapped his hands above his head. “Congrats, you’re employed!” the blonde looked at him with wide eyes and a wide smiley mouth, expecting a reaction to the awesome news, and Wonho took some time to process the reality.

“Wait, really?” he formed the most surprised expression on his face he possibly could, because such realities must only come with dramatic reactions.

“Yeah!” Namjoon exclaimed shortly, and Wonho grabbed his slippers and jumped off the stage, running up to the men watching him. He smiled, happy glint probably obvious in his eyes, and was about to say something but didn’t know what.

“Thank you?” he said, and Namjoon extended his hand for a shake.

“If you can wait for another half an hour or so here, we can talk about working conditions and contract in my office later, if it’s convenient for you?”

Wonho imaged the approximate time of the day, and shook his head unsurely. “I have work later in the afternoon, not sure I can make it.”

“How about tomorrow? Similar time?” Namjoon suggested, and Wonho tried to remember his schedule and nodded at the possibility that he would be free.

“Yeah, that’s good!”

Wonho tried to focus on Namjoon only and memorize the instructions for tomorrow, he really tried, but his gaze wavered to the tall man next to his now nearly-boss, and Wonho stopped breathing for a second. He swallowed and kept his eyes on Hyungwon for longer than planned, longer than was appropriate, longer than was considered platonic. Hyungwon was smiling. The smile that stretched his lips and puffed his cheeks, the smile that made his eyes look smaller and cuter, and Wonho watched the world move in slow motion, the way Hyungwon curved his mouth in an approving gesture, the way he synchronized his eyebrows with it, the way his eyes were so bright and his skin glowed a natural tan colour, the way Hyungwon brushed his hair back and then extended a hand for a handshake. His hand. Thin and bony and paler than his face, so long and so big, and so, so damn pretty. A porcelain hand. A doll hand.

“Congratulations, I’ll be looking forward to working with you.” Was all Hyungwon said, and Wonho could only smile and mutter a thank you, and he couldn’t stop looking the tall man in the eyes. Such expressive eyes. And they were so big even without any makeup on, natural shades under making them so big they filled half of his face, and Wonho was afraid he would never stop staring.

Minhyuk and Kihyun helped him get out of his bullshit. “So, if you need any help understanding what’s going on and why, come to me and I’ll make sure to teach you good.” Minhyuk grinned and wrapped his bony arm around his shoulders, leading him away towards the backstage, and Wonho still felt the warmth of the other man’s long palm in his. He was way too in deep, and Hyungwon only directed two sentences at him. Two sentences and the prettiest smile Wonho had ever seen, and he already considered himself accomplished. He was now an employer, a dancer in the club he desired to get into since a couple of years ago. It took him some time realizing that Hyungwon was not running anywhere, they now belonged to the same place. Wonho would see Hyungwon again, and not once, but constantly. Seemed unbelievable.

Wonho got changed and packed and left the dressing room. There was an indistinct shouting in the distance, and he squeezed himself between the stage and the wall and got out into the spacious hall, and the shouting was clear as he recognised three figures by each pole on the front stage. Minhyuk was in the middle, Kihyun was on Wonho’s left and Hyungwon was the closest to his side as Wonho walked over the side of the stage as unsuspectingly slowly as he could, and his gaze lingered on Hyungwon long figure, the way he positioned one of his legs a bit forward and slightly bent, and Wonho could trace the vague outline of his body. His shins curved under the loose fabric, and like that his hips seemed flat and straight, and Wonho got sad that Hyungwon wore such huge clothing. It fit him, of course, but so did the leather pants he wore on stage on Saturday. Too bad Wonho was far away and the lighting was too dim. Too bad.

His shoulders seemed so small but so broad at the same time, especially in contrast to his thin waist and the way his shoulder blades stuck out just slightly under the thin fabric of the shirt, and Wonho was so charmed. Hyungwon looked good even from the back.

But looking like a creep was not one of his priorities, so Wonho quickly walked to the front to see Namjoon passionately discussing something with Minhyuk, and Kihyun to now his right was annoyed. Hyungwon seemed neutral, sleepy even. He face was so relaxed Wonho could see the proper outline of his lips, how they formed a heart slightly parted and how the tubercle nearly touched his bottom lip with how hard the inside of his upper lip curved. Wonho had never seen lips like that. He had never seen anyone look like Hyungwon, really. He was one of a kind.

Saying bye to Namjoon, Wonho hurried up to leave. He couldn’t just keep staring at a man that was still practically a stranger to him. So he quickly ran up the stairs and glanced back for exactly one second to see Hyungwon possibly looking back up at him, and Wonho opened the door with the speed of lightning and disappeared behind it. His heart was beating nervously. He just got a job in a place he wanted to get into because of an unbelievably good and amazingly attractive dancer, and now he would see the man up close on the weekly basis, and now it didn’t seem like such a good idea, considering his heart nearly brought him to the state of tachycardia when he saw the only person that motivated him to do so well. And he only saw him once; twice considering the conversation they had today. 

Wonho only managed to learn his name. Hyungwon, that was even less than a name, it was just the first name, but even this collections of letters and syllables sounded like the most beautiful mix a human language could produce.

He didn’t even understand why the attraction was so strong. He didn’t understand things like that with his mind, not really. It was his body that knew the answer, and he never explained his feelings with words.


	2. you were my co-worker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> transition chapter that just gently lubricates wonho into the club so after that one there will be real action 'kay guys thank you for reading
> 
> comments and kudos are as always very appreciated!

It was Wednesday. Wonho was employed.

He was just leaving Namjoon’s office, which was located at the very end of the backstage corridor in another short corridor to the left, and holding a copy of his contract in his swinging arm as he hopped towards the stage and the main hall. He met Minhyuk on the way as the guy with the bleached hair was exiting one of the private dressing rooms, still talking to someone inside as he was closing the door.

“Oh! Muscles!” Minhyuk exclaimed and jumped to stand by Wonho’s side, the gesture he honestly didn’t mind at all. The pretty man was his colleague now. “Got your work contract? So you’re officially in the crew now, that’s cool! But you do realize you won’t just continue like you did before? They’ll probably set up a trial day for you on Friday, Fridays are the easiest for that.” Minhyuk rambled as they walked down the corridor, arms interlocked at the elbows and steps matching, and Wonho wasn’t sure what to focus on, the melodic stomping of their shoes or the huge load of information he was just drowned in. “Oh, wait, I can set up a trial day, I’m the manager, I can do whatever,” Minhyuk ranted more to himself with a funny frowning expression, and Wonho giggled. Then he stopped.

“Wait, you’re a manager?”

“Well, yeah, who else?” Minhyuk asked back as if it was the most obvious thing, and Wonho quirked his head to the side. They stopped walking a while ago, right before the stage began. “I’ve been here for five years, nearly six, and I’m the best at managing the boys, so I have more rights than about other fifty employers here, uh-huh.” Minhyuk said with a tight-lipped smile that showed his tiny dimples, and Wonho recognized something of Hyungwon in that expression. Hyungwon. He already missed the man.

“That’s awesome.” He replied instead.

Minhyuk shook his head and frowned. “We have to show you around, you barely know anything. So!” Minhyuk shouted and clapped, and Wonho had a whiplash at a sudden loud exclamation and froze in place with wide eyes, waiting for the other man to start the guide-tour. “Here,” he slapped a wall on which he was leaning, “we have a schedule for each dancer, concept of the day, and just generally stuff we discuss every week. Meetings happen every Monday and other days when we feel like we need them, time varies, we have a group chat and emails, so I’m in charge of adding you there.” Minhyuk got his phone out of his pocket, looked at it for a few moments and just muttered ‘later’ with a frown and a jerk of his head. “Sorry, we were drinking last night, I’m still out of it,” he laughed, and Wonho breathed out an ‘ah’, finally catching up with the other. “So! Phone number – got to remember, scheds, meetings, what else? The dressing room, let’s go.” Minhyuk grabbed his wrist and lead him down the corridor again, towards the black metal stairs at the back.

They climbed up, and Wonho could hear vague chatting and laughing. Minhyuk still held on to his wrist when they stepped into the spacious room, black wood and brown bricks making up the walls, light wooden floor all littered with stuff, black ceiling with intense yellow bulbs, dusty windows that let in some of the white light from the street, and rows and rows of tables with mirrors. Clothing racks were pushed all along the walls, and there was a clean corner with mats and a barre and a huge full-height mirror, and there was a brown leather couch right next to it, like the ones in the dressing rooms downstairs, and there were people sitting on the floor right in front of it. A whole group of men, to be exact, in sports clothes and with snacks and cans of soda all over the floor. Wonho felt just a tiny bit embarrassed. Hyungwon was not there.

“Fellas, this is Wonho, he is our new dancer, let’s welcome him.” Minhyuk shouted and raised his arms with a high-pitched sound, and the men on the floor a few meters away started saying their ‘hi’s and ‘welcome’s in a hoard of low and high voices, some enthusiastic, some not so much. He could recognize BamBam among the faces, and Wonho smiled a polite smile and waved.

“Hi.”

“Okay, we don’t have an assigned table yet, but I guess one of the ones at the back should be free since no one likes those, so just bring your stuff in on Friday and claim a table, okay, let’s go!” Minhyuk said quickly and loudly and grabbed Wonho again, dragging him down the stairs. “Wait, let me add you to the group chat before I forget,” Minhyuk mumbled and got his phone out again. Wonho spelled out his number, Minhyuk saved him as ‘The Muscles, new dude’ and opened WhatsApp, adding Wonho to the group chat named ‘monrex’, and Wonho felt his own phone vibrating in the pocket of his sweats. “Okay, let’s move on.”

They squeezed into the main hall, and Minhyuk started showing him around. There was a huge storage room with extra tables and armchairs and whatnot, there was a security room, there was a bathroom for the guests, there was another storage room for food with a fridge, with which, Minhyuk said, they all sinned by stealing something at least a few times, there was a break room for the staff that weren’t the strippers, like bartenders and waiters, and there was this red room. There were a few of those, in fact, and Wonho breathed a short ‘ooh’ when he understood what it served as.

The walls, the couch, the floor, everything was crimson velvet, so soft yet so striking, and there was a pole in the middle of the room. Sure, Wonho did private shows too, but the couches in this room seemed way too comfortable and wide for just a simple sit down and watch session.

“This one is for private shows, don’t worry,” Minhyuk starts, “but it can be used for sex too, but only from the side of the stripper, you know? Like, that’s the policy. If a dude finds a visitor, let’s say, attractive or bang-worthy, he can just go and come here, so technically it’s really cool, but it doesn’t happen that much. We just use these rooms for fucking on the weekdays.” Minhyuk laughed, and Wonho nodded, unable to really say anything else. Of course they all were wilding among themselves, Wonho did that too. The easiest way to find a gay man was at the workplace, so everything made sense. He wondered if Hyungwon did that too. Maybe all this time he had a boyfriend, and Wonho had no right to just crush on him. Yeah, he didn’t think that through very well, didn’t really coordinate with his heart either.

Minhyuk finished showing around and explaining how the whole place worked, they said their byes and Wonho left to adjust his day work schedule and fit Monstrose Xtraordinaire somewhere on the timetable. He really wanted to see Hyungwon. He couldn’t wait for Friday to come.

 

It was his last yoga class for the day. It wasn’t too late, so he technically had some time to shop. Tomorrow was going to be his first day in the club. Wonho was nervous. He wanted more clothes, more chokers and more heels, but his wardrobe was full and the first few weeks of his work were literally just guest service. No one let people on stage just like that, everyone needed a trial time, something special to gather patrons and some kind of reputation. Wonho was sure he could get on with this shit quickly, as he always did in his previous clubs, but something about Monstrose Xtraordinaire was special. Not just something, most of the things, and not just special – it was a totally unique place, with unique people like Minhyuk and Kihyun, who shared intense personalities and an even more intense relationship that Wonho still couldn’t quite figure out, or like that Jackson guy who was a bartender and only talked in English and Cantonese to everyone around him, even if people couldn’t always understand (Wonho met him at an unplanned meeting earlier today and could only laugh at the way the other bartender, Jooheon, copied his voice and accent whenever he could). The amount of talented foreigners that worked there was overwhelming. There was this Chinese duo that did some mind-blowing tricks on the pole while wearing heels and apparently, as they discussed with Namjoon, stripping at the same time, but Wonho was yet to see that as today was only a rehearsal and nothing was showcased the way it would be in the real thing.

Wonho also learned the schedule. Apparently, Fridays were some of the wildest days, because they never had a certain theme and included whatever the employers had to offer that couldn’t be included on the weekends. They frequently had the ‘beefy’ part of their staff, as they called him and men like Jeongguk and Hongbin, take the stage on Fridays and throw a wild, German-styled show for the guests, and it was something Wonho was totally good at. Saturdays were similar to what Wonho had already seen. It was mostly pop and mainstream, but it wasn’t something Wonho or the guests minded much. Minhyuk was the king of Saturdays, as he seemed to be the king of many things, and pretty much most of the performances rehearsed were for the upcoming Saturday. Hyungwon wasn’t there, although he was part of the trio with Minhyuk and Kihyun, and Wonho got just a tiny bit worried, but Minhyuk casually told him it was alright; Hyungwon knew the choreography perfectly, he was just busy. Sundays were a whole lot more special though. They were more entertaining. Not full Broadway shows, of course, but something similar. Wonho was explained to that two additional parts get added to the stage along the podium to make it a full rectangle, and it probably looked amazing. Kihyun swore to be the best at this – at Sunday shows, he meant, and Wonho couldn’t wait to see it, even though he wouldn’t be of much use on that day. Namjoon cheered him up with the ‘you can just casually serve drinks and claim someone’s lap while you’re at it’, and gave him a promise that he would soon be able to choreograph his own stages once he got the approval from… well, pretty much everyone.

He wondered if Hyungwon liked his dancing on Tuesday. He was sure the other saw at least some of it as he remembered getting distracted when the tall man walked by, and Wonho was thrown a little bit off. He didn’t see Hyungwon dance since last week, not a single time. They were always in different places, Wonho and Hyungwon, and they could never meet or have a chat, and Wonho could only put all his hope on Friday and the upcoming weekend to catch a chance to talk with the other man. He wanted to see him dance. Strip, too. He didn’t really do anything the last Saturday; sure, he was beautiful and captured Wonho’s heart and mind, but nipple pasties? People still wore those? Maybe it was a Hyungwon thing, who knew, but wearing such dark pants in such a dark room? Wonho could only wail in silence as he sat on his bed and contemplated the blurry memories for the past week, and how in one fleeting moment he found himself strangely emotional over one fellow human being. Fascinated, maybe. Intrigued. Enamoured. Hyungwon danced like a genius, he looked like one, too, and he was so mysteriously out there, just walking and living his own life, that Wonho really found himself lost in all his contemplations.

It was the looks, it really was. Wonho had seen a huge amount of bodies, dressed and not so dressed, dancing on stage, grinding on him, lying in his bed, escaping that walk of shame while gathering the clothes, and a lot of them looked great. And he didn’t even see Hyungwon underneath the layers yet. Maybe, maybe Wonho was a little bit obsessed with seeing what’s underneath yet on the surface, rather than really looking on the inside, but it was his personal preference, and so far, no one really minded yet. So why in the world was his head hurting? He didn’t know. Fucking nipple pasties. Round, black and glassy. Seriously?

Wonho sighed and started unpacking his shopping bags. He would have to go with the booty shorts tomorrow, those were the most exciting to attract new people to his persona. To his body. Personalities didn’t really matter in the job like theirs.

 

Friday came, and so did Wonho. To work. His new amazing work.

It was early afternoon, and the room was already set up and decorated, chairs and tables in place, just like the alcohol at the bar was refilled, glasses washed, floor wiped off of any dust and DJ booth set up. Men in black were testing the lighting and the sound, and all the dancers were collectively stretching out on the stage, with Namjoon’s cheerful reciting of the plan for the day.

Wonho stretched his spine, pushing his butt back, bending at a ninety degrees angle and straightening his arms in front of his head. His shoulders cracked, and he loved the feeling of his muscles contracting and relaxing, the slight burn in his joints when he pulled some more, the illusion of his body elongating and reaching the heights he never dreamed of.

Hyungwon probably didn’t feel that way. He was tall enough. Wonho sent the other man, who was standing on the opposite stage and minding his own business, occasional glances and barely remembered the order of his warm-up routine. Hyungwon was doing it differently. He twisted his ankles around, twisted his wrists too, circled his arms to crack his shoulder joints, and pushed his hips so upfront that Wonho got scared he would break in half, but Hyungwon just released a relieved exhale and started stretching his sides. His hips probably cracked, Wonho thought. They were all obsessed with cracking their joints here, but he got it, it was a pleasant feeling. Like a confirmation that they couldn’t break that easily.

Hyungwon was wearing Bluetooth earphones and had his eyes closed, and Wonho wondered what he listened to. Maybe it was his stage song, maybe it was mainstream pop, maybe it was something more complicated. Wonho couldn’t really put Hyungwon in a certain category just based on his appearance. He looked so dainty and fragile under all his loose black clothing, but his arms (and it was the only thing Wonho would really admire back then on stage, nearly a week ago) were strong and wiry, small but dense biceps bulging, veins popping and sweat just sliding down his sharp shoulders. Hyungwon brought his left arm over his head and bent the elbow, leaning it in the opposite direction, until the sharp elbow nearly lined up with his right ear from behind, and exhaled again, letting his arm go. He really enjoyed popping his joints, didn’t he.

Wonho tried to focus on his own warm-up. He did a split and reached for his front leg, turned into the side split, stretched there, moved onto his other leg, repeated. He was so familiar with the whole routine he worked out for himself years ago, and never missed a day of stretch. It was a bit hard keeping up with both – sculpting his body on purpose and keeping his flexibility and naturally developed strength in his limbs he gained after years and years of training in dance, yoga and martial arts. Life brought him here eventually, to this awesome stage in this awesome gay club in which he stripped and grinded like there was no tomorrow for money and personal enjoyment. Life was… definitely not ordinary, to say the least. Wonho ended up where he ended up and he liked it, and he wondered about the rest of the dancers in his new crew. He wondered if they have other jobs outside of stripping, he wondered if it was always someone else’s dream to be where they were right now.

Minhyuk was interesting. He wasn’t the most flexible, in comparison to the rest of the guys, but he was definitely one of the most memorable, like he meant to be on stage. Kihyun was powerful. He mumbled a song under his breath as he rehearsed the choreographed moves, but Wonho couldn’t really conclude anything from the vague quiet mix of sounds he distinguished. He was relatively short, but extremely athletic, and he could do a backflip with a land in a split. He could also do a handstand for the longest period of time without any support and even beat Wonho in the push-up competition they did before going on stage for the routine warm-up.

Those two looked close. Like the type of friends that were friends for so long they could jerk off with each other. Wonho observed the way Kihyun slapped Minhyuk’s shoulder and made the taller stand in place while he lifted his legs and put the foot on the shoulder he just slapped, and Minhyuk slid a finger down the plump curve of Kihyun’s ass. Kihyun repeated the same with the other leg, and all this time Minhyuk was standing still, just admiring Kihyun’s face (who wasn’t even looking at the other), and it was the quietest Wonho had seen Minhyuk so far. When Kihyun stopped, he leaned into Minhyuk side and grinned, and Wonho tried not to widen his eyes too much when Minhyuk leaned down and shorty pecked Kihyun on the lips. It was cute, of course, just a little unexpected. Well, their personal life didn’t matter that much to Wonho, they weren’t even friends yet anyways. Hyungwon, on the other hand, interested him much more.

The tall man spread his legs wide, lining his feet in a perfect straight line, and squatted, eyes still closed and face relaxed, and twisted his upper body around with the help of his hands on his knees. He grimaced his face every time he stretched too much, and Wonho had the urge to bring the struggling man to the spa and pay for his massage. He probably had such delicate bones, just like his entire structure. Well, Wonho couldn’t even judge under all his huge XL clothing.

It wasn’t every day that Wonho wanted to take clothes off of a random stranger, but hormones were hormones even for a man in his twenties, and although a worker in a strip club shouldn’t really have faced such problems, when it came to Hyungwon, problems only started to grow in numbers.

 

An hour before the club was supposed to open, everyone sat in the big dressing room and did their makeup. Wonho put on his jean shorts and suspenders already and threw a huge robe on to keep the warmth within his body. He didn’t really have to put much – just bright red eyeshadow to match his red suspenders, but he couldn’t not go all out. So he did the crease in dark crimson and covered the entire contour area under his eyebrows in transparent glitter so the soft red stayed. He finished the eyes with the black pencil on the inside of the lower eyelid, and took out his lipstick collection. He was about to press the deep red liquid to his lips when something caught his eye.

His table (that he rightfully claimed, thanks to Minhyuk’s advice the other day) was in the row further from the exit and the closest to the stretching area of the room with the mats and the barre. Jimin – the relatively short guy with a really cute smile and amazingly fit legs – was there, stretching. Jimin was nice, chatty and welcoming, and Wonho already liked him after one literal minute of conversation earlier that day, but he wasn’t that interesting to get distracted over. Hyungwon was.

Hyungwon, in his loose black sweatpants that he rolled just to the middle of his calves and gave Wonho a chance to peak at his round curved muscles and thin ankles, with his hair messy and slightly wavy, and this extremely relaxed expression on his face, walked to the barre, right next to Jimin, and pressed his hands to the wood, wrapping his eternally long fingers around it. He then pushed his legs apart and bent down, hands unchangeably on the barre and butt up in the air, and Wonho froze with an open lipstick in his hand as he fixed his eyes on the curve of Hyungwon’s spine and the firm halves that rounded up and tightened the loose fabric on them with the strength with which Hyungwon stretched his entire body like cat, already long spine seeming to grow a few more disks and shoulders blades rising like bird’s wings, threatening to rip the black t-shirt apart. Wonho remembered the tall man’s back view from the only performance he saw; he did something similar back then, only in tight leather pants and a fucking corset squeezing his waist, and the top half of his back that was uncovered moved like rippling water, each muscle visible with every move, every turn of the shoulders or the forward arch of his rib cage in fast jerks to the beat, and Wonho remembered all of it.

He wondered what Hyungwon was performing tonight. He never saw him rehearsing, and it was plainly disappointing. Even an hour before the club opening, Hyungwon didn’t seem to be interested in practicing as he threw one leg on the barre and tried to reach a full split, which was quite difficult considering the inhuman length of his legs and the flooring that didn’t allow any gliding. Hyungwon gave up and joined Jimin on the floor. He smiled at the short man and slid a delicate hand over the narrow yet muscular back of the other and rested it there. Wonho gulped and felt a sting in his stomach, as if he swallowed a bag of pins. He didn’t usually get stings in his stomach.

Hyungwon kneeled behind Jimin and started massaging his back and neck, and Wonho shamelessly gazed at the way Hyungwon spread his knees apart and held himself up on his toes, heels pinching his butt. Wonho unconsciously shifted in his chair, strangely fidgety and nervous, but couldn’t find the strength to detach his eyes from the man on the floor. A sudden hum somewhere from the other side of his mirror snapped him out of the trance.

Wonho quickly jerked to the side and saw Minhyuk, with his fabulous face all made up and covered in glitter. He dyed his hair the other day, and it was now pitch black, bangs long and styled to the sides. They matched, Minhyuk, Kihyun and Hyungwon. It was probably for their trio stage tomorrow. Wonho wanted to feel like a part of the squad too – his hair was black and styled up, and he looked amazing too.

“Hyungwon, he’s cool,” was what Minhyuk said, not even meeting Wonho’s eyes amidst his important self-evaluation in the mirror.

“Huh?” Wonho didn’t find the wits to throw something more intelligent and continued to stare at the man on the opposite side of the table with the same red lipstick in his hand. He didn’t even start putting it on yet.

“Hyungwon. If you like him, you should talk to him.” Minhyuk continued and applied a bit of blush to his round protruding cheekbones.

Wonho huffed and finally closed the lipstick just to open it again and press the brush to his upper lip. “I don’t,” he did one corner, “like him,” did the second and smacked his lips together, some of the product imprinting on his lower lip. He continued from there.

“I hear lies, so you should still talk to him.” Minhyuk made a few sassy faces to his reflection, checking himself out from all angles, and Wonho felt his heart fall. He wasn’t familiar with fear, he never felt nervous at the idea of starting conversations with people. Minhyuk was being weird.

Wonho didn’t have the time to reply as Hyungwon appeared out of clean air and leaned down to wrapped his long snaky arms around Minhyuk’s shoulders. He smiled.

“You look great.” Hyungwon turned to look at Wonho and smiled at him too. “You look good too. You’re at the warm-up tonight, if I’m not mistaken?” Hyungwon asked and moved his arms to Minhyuk’s neck.

Wonho blinked a few times to accept the scene in front of him as the reality. “Oh, yeah, I am! Have to start somewhere at the new place, I guess.” He smiled and quickly glanced in the mirror to make sure his makeup looked good. He didn’t want Hyungwon to think his makeup skills were trashy.

“Good luck!” he raised his eyebrows with a smile in a supportive expression and turned to Minhyuk again. “I’m going to do my makeup, I’ll see you later.” With that he got up from the uncomfortable hunching position he was in and faded into the depth of the dressing room – or rather, the surface of it, since his table was one of the closest to the stairs, – and Wonho felt strangely sad. Hyungwon talked to him, and if it weren’t for the people around him and Minhyuk’s secretive glances, Wonho would have exploded at the sudden flood of emotions he hadn’t experienced since high school days. He wanted to curse his special useless ability in developing crushes in record time. 

 

The light was blue. Blue was reflecting off the high stone walls, blue was dancing in the dome of the ceiling, blue was the matte glass under his feet. It was fascinating how despite the huge amount of light sources the entire hall was black. Wonho couldn’t recognize faces in the distance, couldn’t be sure whether the hand in front of the waistband of his shorts belonged to a man or a woman or someone out of gender boundaries, couldn’t tell where his coworkers went after they jumped off the far stage and dived in the dark of the club.

The bar counter was the only bright place, illuminated in white and occasionally flashing the same deep blue as Wonho’s backlight, and he could see Jooheon and Jackson’s tiny blonde ponytails bouncing with every move they made. The third bartender, Soonyoung, wore a thin hairband to brush his also blonde hair back, and these three men were the biggest source of light Wonho could focus on. He didn’t have to, but closing his eyes didn’t seem like a rational thing to do when the hands with huge golden watches on were reaching for his crotch area and trying to push banknotes into the waistband if his shorts, and he had to smile sneakily at every single touch and spread his legs just a little bit more to lower his body just enough to let a hand slide up and down his rippled abdomen. He admired how a stranger’s fingers disturbed the way blue shadows fell on his skin, how they emphasised every single toned muscle, slid up his obliques and down his v-line, and how the hand messed up the shadows like wind troubled water, and the touch made his stomach flex in waves.

Wonho squatted with his knees wide apart, and a hand made its way up his leg to the thigh that looked funnily squished in the position, and Wonho fell on his knees, pushing his hips forward and grinding slowly yet restlessly, never stopping his movements, never stopping biting on his lower lip and grinning with the corner of his mouth, never letting the hand leave his body even for a second.

It was only after the music turned to gentle house that Wonho slid down the stage and moved towards the bar, getting ready to settle somewhere and enjoy the stages. There were people by the bar but not much, most of the guests preferring to sit down and order through waiters, and it was always a big part of Wonho’s job to distribute drinks and get tips for a slight shake of his ass. He leaned on his elbow on the counter near Jooheon and smiled.

The bartender poured the juice he just mixed into two glasses and put a tray full of drinks in front of Wonho. “Here, table,” he took a piece of paper from the tray and squinted at it, “thirty one, it’s right by the wall on the left.”

Wonho was good at learning the table planning, so he nodded, took the tray and moved through the crowd right towards the visitors.

A few stages later, and Wonho already claimed himself as a full-time waiter because his legs were jiggling too much whenever he tried to settle down and let a stranger stroke his ass as he waited for Hyungwon to appear, but the beautiful man was never first on the setlist so Wonho continued distributing orders like a good boy he was.

“Oh, that’s Won’s setting.” Jooheon noticed as he glanced towards the stage, which was a very dark blue, and Wonho whipped his head harder than he planned to.

“Hyungwon’s?” he asked on first instincts and possibly regretted it immediately when Soonyoung, who was a good meter away, smiled.

“Yep, that’s his lighting.” Jooheon confirmed and put another drink on Wonho’s tray. “Table twelve.”

Wonho nodded and moved, barely preventing his hands from trembling. Just six days he was here watching Hyungwon’s dance as a visitor, a good distance away by the stairs that lead to the exit, and now he was sitting on the arm of a chair, with a hand around his waist, scary two meters away from the front stage, and could see everything. It would be the closest he had ever gotten to Hyungwon’s dancing. Gosh, his legs started jiggling again.

The dark blue got gloomier, and the music stopped. Wonho held his breath when the first beat dropped and the white spotlight illuminated Hyungwon on the far stage, in all his beauty and all his glory. Wonho knew the beat, the slight electro of the hollow drums, how it got lower with each count. ‘Hit and Run’, Lana del Rey’s unreleased song. And there Hyungwon was, in another pair of tight leather pants and a white button down, so thin and nearly transparent and reaching to his thighs. He was wearing casual black boots this time, and his hair was styled up. Wonho forgot he wasn’t breathing and could only release a shaky exhale when the voice started warming up with short rough ‘ah’s, and Hyungwon walked up the podium, spotlight following, steps slow and long, from the hip, arms swinging sassily and face impudent, confident, superior. Wonho had never seen that face on the other man. It was a gorgeous face. 

Hyungwon reached the front stage and started moving simply, hips swaying to the sides slightly or waving in circling motions, and hands sliding over his body, brushing his hair or just mimicking the lyrics, just how Hyungwon was mouthing every single word, without missing a line.

 _Take off your business suit_ , and Hyungwon spread his knees, arms sliding down his legs, _Sitting on your lap for my interview_ , and Hyungwon dropped down, hands on his face and in his hair, and when the chorus hit, he started bouncing in one place, hips jerking and face ecstatic, mouth parted and eyes closed, and Wonho gulped. Second part of the chorus, _Hit it and run, baby, hit it and run_ , and Hyungwon put his hands on the ground and rose on all fours, and his spine curved and arched with every beat, his ass moving up and down, his hair bouncing and falling to the sides, and Wonho felt too much from such a typical move, from such an overplayed expression, from such a simple outfit. Hyungwon didn’t need more than that – he was wanted either way, and he knew it, and Wonho understood why.

The way the pants were loose around his hips when he stood but tightened whenever he pushed his ass back, the way his long thin hands wrapped around his neck and stroked down, to the first button of the shirt, the way professional fingers undid it in a second, and the way the hips kept their rhythmic movements. Hyungwon didn’t look at the audience – he was higher than that, better than that, he was gorgeous and he knew that, he was on the pedestal while the rest of the world was at his feet, even when it was Hyungwon himself who was kneeling down. And Wonho’s heart skipped a beat when the man on the stage above him leaned on the pole, shirt undone but still covering his torso, eyes hooded and looking around, _Eyeing you from across the room_ , running over every single head in his view, _Watching me, wa-watching you_ , and their eyes met, for the quickest second, for the tiniest of moment, and Hyungwon smirked in a flash of light before the chorus dropped and he wrapped his body around the pole.

His shirt was hanging off his shoulder, and Wonho was breathing hard, the look in Hyungwon’s eyes imprinted in his memory, so daring, so fast yet so impactful, and Hyungwon refused to make it any easier for Wonho, refused to be less feral. Hyungwon was the homme fatale, the dancer extraordinaire, the crème de la crème. Wonho didn’t have enough words in human language to describe the beautiful curve of Hyungwon’s waist, the way his abdomen formed firm muscles and gentle lines, the way he arched back and the shirt hanged like a useless piece of fabric, and the light dipped into the ridges of his ribs and slid along the thin hipbone, and Hyungwon wasn’t ashamed. He turned the men around him into dogs that would throw themselves into the burning pit for the tiniest piece of snack on a bone. Hyungwon’s white round nipple pasties attracted hungry gazes, and Wonho understood it all. Hyungwon caused the desire to rip his clothes apart, to tear the stupid stickers off his skin, to grab his hair and expose his face and stare, and stare, and stare. Hyungwon never allowed the full reveal, and that was his biggest appeal, and Wonho got it, fuck, he got it.

When the bridge slowed the pace down, Hyungwon stood in the middle of the stage, his shirt undone and damp but still hanging off his shoulders, and he moved his torso slowly, from his waist to his hips, and his stomach moved like a snake. Hyungwon was an elastic band but he was so strong, pushed to his limits but never breaking. And Wonho gasped just when Hyungwon smirked and reached for his pants, tracing his fingers around the lean thighs, and Wonho knew what was coming. Hyungwon kept his eyes on the audience as he slid hands down to the ankles, and when the last chorus hit, he raised his arms with two pieces of leather in them that he immediately threw somewhere in the unknown direction like a piece of trash. Wonho understood that his wait wasn’t that long but if he wasn’t at work and was acting in some stupid sappy drama, he would have dropped a tear or two.

Hyungwon remained in leather shorts that just reached his mid-thigh, and was it enough to see the gorgeous outline of his thigh muscles that arched with each thrust of his hips, and the way the sharp knees bent, and how beautifully harmonizing Hyungwon’s figure really was. His legs were strong, and Wonho didn’t miss the way the calves curved outwards from the knee, and even with the slight defect that could only be called cute, Hyungwon was perfect. The way his thighs shook with each powerful movement was perfection, and the way the prominent hamstrings nearly lined up with the flat but firm glutes was also perfection, and the way the dry stomach inflated and deflated with the harsh breathes Hyungwon took after the music stopped and he dropped on his knees in the final position was also perfection. And Wonho still couldn’t breathe properly even when the lights turned off and Hyungwon vanished from the stage, he couldn’t inhale as the images that were now stuck in his head swelled up into a boulder that was too big to move in his throat, and only when a hand of a stranger caressed along his thigh did his body wake up and he breathed.

 

The club started dissipating at about five thirty a.m., and all the dancers officially finished their job. Everyone gathered in the big dressing room to wash their makeup off – no one wanted to be seen with their faces all painted outside of work. The back exit door was always busy with guys smoking and sharing how much they wanted to sleep, so Wonho stopped for a drag because smoking in a crowded area designated just for that was a very bonding activity. He wanted new friends too.

Hyungwon was there, sitting on the small stone stairs and smoking with Kihyun’s head on his shoulder. He was scrolling through something on his phone, face clean of any makeup and hair still parted to the sides, and his huge white puffy jacket fitted surprisingly well with his black sweats and sneakers. Hyungwon looked good, even at six a.m. and after seven hours of continuous work, and this was the reason for Wonho’s accidental staring.

“Oh, Wonho,” Kihyun noticed him and gave a small wave, and Hyungwon raised his eyes, and like that, with his legs spread in a gangster-like position, with a cigarette in one hand and a phone in the other, with his face all natural and expression neutral, with his deep brown eyes and dark circles under them, his skin all dry and stretched over his face as all the puffiness disappeared hours ago, Hyungwon looked like the man Wonho definitely wouldn’t mind falling on his knees for. “Congrats on the first proper day of work here.” Kihyun continued and offered a small tired smile, and Wonho smiled back.

“Thank you.” His eyes couldn’t stay on the short man for long as Hyungwon smiled too, and Wonho’s heart fluttered.

“Congratulations,” Hyungwon took a drag, and Wonho didn’t expect him to continue talking, but contrary to all his expectations, the tall man did, “Did you enjoy it?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely, I missed working, so even though I’m technically starting from the beginning, the atmosphere here is, like, totally worth it.” Wonho could already be proud of himself for very little stuttering and this little attempt at elaboration.

Hyungwon smiled wider, lips spreading and cheeks rounding. “I’m glad then. Well, hope to see you on stage soon?” Hyungwon expression was magical when he talked. Especially his eyebrows. Did he even have to put makeup on his eyebrows? They were so good without it already, so well shaped and so well articulated.

Wonho didn’t have time to reply when Minhyuk jumped out of the door and teleported right in front of Kihyun and Hyungwon, lightly hitting Wonho with his huge sports bag. “Well, we going or what?” he asked, and the two sitting men rolled their eyes. Kihyun, who wasn’t smoking and was just spacing out on the tall man’s shoulder, slowly got up, shook the dust off his pants and waved a bye at Hyungwon, who remained sitting. Wonho felt awkward, like he was an unwanted witness to a domestic scene he wasn’t supposed to see, like it was something only the now three black-haired men could be the participants of.

“See you tomorrow, Wonho.” Kihyun said passing him by, and Minhyuk threw a very hurried ‘bye!’ over his shoulders, and with that the two walked to their car in the staff parking lot. Hyungwon was finishing his cigarette in silence, face tired and mind obviously not capable enough of a decent conversation, so Wonho followed his example and smoked faster.

“Well, see you tomorrow?” Hyungwon got up and grabbed his own sports bag. They all seemed to have the same kind of style. He rubbed the cigarette butt off the trashcan near the door and threw it out and turned to face him. “Let’s chat some other time then?” he smiled that little tight-lipped smile and gave Wonho a little wave before walking past him, and Wonho could only mutter a late ‘yes’ as he stared at the way Hyungwon’s feet formed a perfect straight line like the dirty pavement was a catwalk for him, and Wonho liked how his shoulders didn’t slouch even one bit despite the heavy bag hanging off one of them, and how he continued looking at his phone as he got out his car keys out of the pocket of his jacket and opened his old maroon Mercedes-Benz (2004 model? Looked like it), and with this, the man was gone.

Wonho finished his own cigarette, stomped on one place, because it was especially cold at night, realised he had nothing else to do and eventually walked over to his own car, to drive to the loneliness and warmth of his own apartment.

 

Wonho wasn’t sure why he was still single. He was more of a one-night stand and quick flings person; it had been like that for years now, but he never actually bothered with finding someone as desperately as he was now, after he realised his weird crush on Hyungwon that didn’t even have a foundation. He felt unusually lonely and miserable, like instead of spending his weekday evenings wandering around the streets in search of new makeup and with Hyungwon on his mind, he should have been walking around bars with a new dude in hand or at least with a friend. But he wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about meeting his old friends, the ones he made before his life in Monstrose Xtraordinaire, which was exactly the reason why he didn’t give it a second thought before he blurted out a ‘yes, sure’ when Minhyuk asked him whether he wanted to see them practice some time next week literally the next day. The day after Hyungwon threw half of his leather pants away and gave Wonho a heart attack, over which he still hadn’t gotten over.

Wonho was waiting backstage with the rest of the warm-up dancers on Saturday when Minhyuk got out of the private dressing room, where he was preparing for his trio performance, and stood next to Wonho, absolutely randomly. They were going to perform Beyoncé that night, and Wonho still hadn’t seen he rehearsal for that one, and it was a little sad, but all his old worries evaporated into thin air when Minhyuk bumped his shoulder and, “You wanna see me, Kihyun and Hyungwon work out a new routine for next week? We’re doing a trio again.”

Wonho agreed, and immediately turned to look at the other man with silent questions in mind.

“We don’t make new choreographies here, we either go to the dance studio or someone’s home, but the studio is the most ideal option, so we go there, just let me know if you definitely decide to go, so I can call the dude and order you a pass.” Minhyuk explained and looked at Wonho expectantly.

He wanted to shrivel under Minhyuk’s unintentionally scrutinizing gaze, but instead just nodded and blinked especially effeminately, something he only did when he was lost among people with bigger aura than him. And Minhyuk had a huge aura despite being about half of Wonho’s size. It was all a lie, deceit and illusion, the body was superficial and never showed the real strength a person possessed. Take Hyungwon, for example, he looked like fragile autumn leaf that would flutter in the breeze and carried away from his homely branch in the wind, but hell knew he could snap a man’s neck in half if he ventured to not fall on his knees on Hyungwon’s command. Men here were terrifying, and Wonho could only puff up his chest and smile, like a shiver of fear didn’t just pass along his entire body.

“Of course, why not? I’d love to!” Wonho replied, and Minhyuk, content with the answer, smiled a toothy smile and ran back to his dressing room, shouting over his shoulder.

“I’ll get back at you about the date and time, I have your phone number!” and he hid behind the door. Wonho could only stiffly chit chat with Jimin and wait for Namjoon’s command to get into the hall and be the entertainer that he so loved to be, because thinking of spending more time with Hyungwon, especially outside the club, with his friends (friends? Who knew) was a little bit scary.

 

It was ‘Yoncé’, the song they were going for. Well, it was Yoncé at first, when it was just Minhyuk on stage in his black lacy harness and his black lacy pants, and he was as hot and enthusiastic as ever, and Wonho was enchanted for a second there too. They muted the singer’s original screaming and when the stage was pitch black, Minhyuk’s ‘Say “hey, mister Lee”’, rattled across the entire club, and Wonho couldn’t help but give in to the charm of Minhyuk’s raspy shouting, his jerky movements when the simple white spotlight shone over him and the beat of ‘Partition’ dropped, his dry wavy hair that bounced with each move, his glittering mouth that repeated every single word in the song, his delicate-looking hands with rough palms that clapped to the beat and his well shaped eyebrows that quirked suggestively. Really, Minhyuk was The Hot Thing of the club, and if the way he ripped his thin pants to stay in black lacy shorts and black lacy thigh highs wasn’t the high point of his sexuality, then Wonho couldn’t imagine what the public would like more than that.

 _Drop it_ echoed through the hall, and Hyungwon and Kihyun got into their own spotlight on their respective sides of the stage, Hyungwon on the left and Kihyun on the right, and the three men slowly, in synchronized dance moves, descended on their knees, hands wrapped around the poles. Hyungwon was wearing a black lacy bodysuit and loose casual pants that stayed low on his hips, and the bikini lines of the bodysuit arched above the waistband, giving his prominent yet worked out hip bones a peek, and Wonho forgot to watch Minhyuk’s solo for the first chorus when Hyungwon was body rolling on his knees to every click of the fingers, and his piercing gaze was directed in front of him, into the distance, and his face was fierce yet not a single mimic wrinkle was visible. Hyungwon’s eyes changed his entire attitude, and the light blue contacts Wonho would recognize from where he was sitting gave the tall man this weird attribute of etherealness, like it was hard to tell who he really was. Maybe Wonho was just stupidly romantic when Beyoncé was playing, but he really didn’t bother looking at the choreography anymore – it was the outline and the images that Hyungwon’s body created that really enticed him, drew him in, made his breath get caught in his throat, and Wonho couldn’t do anything about it. He didn’t want to, either.

Not when halfway through the song Minhyuk and Hyungwon changed positions and the latter conquered the center pole like he belonged there, not when he sensually and slowly slid his pants down at the laid back airy chorus, and the lapels were wide enough to slip the piece of clothing off completely through the high heels and leave him in just his thin lacy bodysuit and a garter on his right thigh, and Wonho wanted nothing more. Hyungwon swayed his body side to side, feet together and hands sliding just lightly over his flat stomach and chest, and Hyungwon’s naked legs were the longest and the sexiest things Wonho had ever seen. He bit his lip at the image of his own hands on Hyungwon’s skin, and it would have taken such a long time gliding down the smooth skin, over the arched thighs and protrusive knees, down to the solid calves and fragile ankles, and all of Hyungwon was made of these kinds of controversies that shouldn’t have been real, but they were, and Hyungwon was, standing in obnoxiously high heels, in his thin bodysuit with high cuts that reached his thin waist and made his legs impossibly long, and he moved like a snake, in waves, slowly and quickly, dangerously and sneakily, and he may have acted as obnoxious as the rest of the world when the three of them turned around and slapped their asses at _Handprints and good grips all on my ass_ , but Hyungwon couldn’t possibly be obnoxious. He could bounce on his knees and mouth _Oh there daddy, daddy_ and never be low, he was doing what he was doing because he was amazing, and every single stimulating move sent a shiver down Wonho’s spine.

When Hyungwon stroked along his leg from the side, or when he bit his lips and thrusted on the floor, or when he turned around and threw his ass in the air, and Wonho unconsciously put a hand between his legs as if to prevent his little guy from looking at the smooth firm halves, but it was pointless. He could never escape from Hyungwon, from how hot he was and how disgustingly quickly it got Wonho going, and he was glad he didn’t have to do the trick with his underwear and tape to hide his dick unlike the guys that go on stage in feminine clothing, because everything that Hyungwon was and had caused the most intense bodily reaction Wonho had never experienced from just looking at someone.

The dark dawned onto the stage again, and Wonho’s mind was filled with things he couldn’t do much about other than bring them home and tuck them safely under the blanket, because bed was the only place where they belonged. Wonho felt unfamiliar in his own head, and as the realization that he developed an intense sexual attraction to a man he barely knew, practically a stranger, sank in, he got stuck between bringing his hopes up and get close or look for ways to get rid of it.

He was still determined to go to that off-schedule dance practice though, absolutely convinced in his undeniable charm that would get Hyungwon just slightly more interested in him too.

 

Things never changed, they rarely did. Sure, old weak building were crumbled down and burned to the ground and new gorgeous skyscrapers grew on the same patch of land in their stead, new phone models kept getting more complicated and less trustworthy, and fashion trends changed depending on the season and the strong obsession of the designers with going against the popular styles and creating something new. They rarely did.

What also was rare was a change in a person’s mindset. No matter the tough experiences they went through, the sticky situations the got themselves into, difficult people they had to deal with, brains stayed the same. Or, well, they didn’t divert much from the original structure they had in the last years of adolescence to the early and mid twenties. There was no reason to change. Some scientist said the age at which the brain stopped developing was twenty-one. But the abstract meaning of the word development already grew several different branches of ideas of what it might have meant, and no one could have possibly known what was the truth. Truth was always subjective, even in this statement. Some truths were objective, of course – rape is always wrong, for example – that is a moral statement, but the actual emergence of concepts such as morals and universal truths was what interested him the most.

People rarely changed, and when they did, they didn’t change the things about themselves they really should have changed. It was an opinion, a subjective statement he always went by, which was why Minhyuk wasn’t surprised when Hyungwon flew into his dressing room and rummaged through his table with panicked eyes full of desperation and something dark that could only be identified as—

Hyungwon grabbed a wrapped up sandwich from Minhyuk’s bag, hastily threw the wrapper away on the floor and took a huge bite of the food, moaning and closing his eyes.

—hunger.

“Are you alright?” Minhyuk asked with a quirked eyebrow, confused.

Hyungwon hummed, keeping the food in his mouth and refusing to swallow. “Yeah. Gosh, this is so good, fuck.” Hyungwon kept his eyes closed and breathed out loudly.

“Have you not had food in months or something?”

“Mm, my dance partner told me I was too heavy for him to lift me and said I should lose a bit, and you know,” Hyungwon rolled his eyes, mouth still food and face blissed out, “triggered something in my head for a second there.” He vaguely gestured his hand on his temple, “Good old academy days,” he mumbled and put the sandwich down, just how Minhyuk put down the eyeliner he was about to apply and gave Hyungwon a more serious look.

“Eat. Take it.” He handed him the sandwich, but Hyungwon shook his head, mouth still full.

“I’m alright.”

“Swallow.” Hyungwon whined and closed his eyes, expression comically miserable. “Hyungwon, swallow.” Minhyuk emphasized the words, and Hyungwon gave the other an offended look, but Minhyuk raised an expectant eyebrow higher up, and Hyungwon had to oblige. “Come on, take it.” Minhyuk extended the bitten sandwich but the tall man shook his head.

“No, I’ll get bloated.” He whined and rubbed his stomach.

“Hyungwon.”

“I promise I’ll eat later after the performance, I have to get ready now.”

“Yeah, Beyoncé doesn’t wait.” Minhyuk gave up persuading and got back to his makeup. “Oh, also!” Hyungwon jumped at the sudden raise of voice and looked at Minhyuk with wide eyes. “I invited Wonho to our practice next week, tell Hyunwoo to get a pass for him, yeah?”

Hyungwon frowned, “Wonho? Alright, yeah, good idea.” He remained in confusion but let it go quickly and pushed himself off the table he was leaning on.

“Which dance partner, by the way?” Minhyuk asked just as Hyungwon was about to leave.

“The dude from the studio, we’re doing a contemp duo for the competition.” Hyungwon opened the door and waved.

“I’ll beat his ass when I see him!” Minhyuk shouted as Hyungwon disappeared behind the door and heard the other shout a muffled ‘sure’.

Minhyuk brought his eyes back to the mirror and continued his mental monologue. People never changed, they rarely did. Hyungwon always wavered between staying true to his old self and changing for the sake of forgetting what life sometimes had to offer.


	3. you were a dancer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> small notice that ballet (or dance) shoes/slippers are NOT pointe shoes, men dont wear pointe (unless they want to just for themselves), so the shoes look smth like [this](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/a/aa/Ballet_shoes_in_fifth_position.jpg/1200px-Ballet_shoes_in_fifth_position.jpg)  
> so im just putting it out there in case people dont know!
> 
> the chapter will be beta-ed later on

The Dance Studio. This new building located in the recreational part of the city but not too far away from the center. The parking lot was huge though, and it was the advantage with the capital A of the place.

Wonho drove in, found a place to park and got out, walking in the direction of the building. He was nervous, if he was being honest. It was Tuesday evening, the sun just settled down and the sky was a misty mix of dark blue and black. Wonho walked up to the door, came in and stopped, absolutely unsure about what to do next. Minhyuk’s instructions weren’t the best quality: he texted him the address and the time, and when Wonho tried to ask what the fuck was he supposed to do once he arrived, the other just threw a quick ‘we’ll sort it out’ and refused to read any more of Wonho’s messages.

Now, the white shining hall of the studio was filling his mind with doubt, and the little and not so little kids sitting on the black couches or running round the place for whatever business they had made him feel like a burglar because of how out of place he seemed. It was a dance school, and Wonho was stupid not to Google the address and do at least a little bit of research on the information he was sent. But he was used to driving to dodgy locations so he didn’t bother.

There was some sort of a security counter, behind which guards and registrars sat and did something on their computers, and there were glass turnstiles right next to them, and Wonho understood now how the ‘pass’ thing was involved. Good thing he always carried his ID with him.

He approached the security desk and smiled at the man sitting behind it. “Hello, I think someone was supposed to get me a pass? Name’s—“

“Oh, Wonho!” he jerked when heard Minhyuk’s loud shout coming from the stairs that were behind the turnstiles and smiled in relief. He was safe. “Yo, give this man a pass, we’re in a hurry.” Minhyuk directed at the people behind the counter.

The guy Wonho was talking to gave him a look, and he reached for his wallet to get his ID out. They quickly got his details, and Minhyuk ran down, pressed a card to the panel on the other side of the turnstile and appeared next to Wonho in a second.

“How’s life?” Minhyuk started and looked impatiently at the people fiddling with a temporary access card.

“How long?” one of the guys asked, and Minhyuk grimaced.

“I don’t know, just do whatever, for how long do you want to come here?” Minhyuk turned to him and turned back away in the next second. “Just do two months, we’ll prolong it when we need to.”

Wonho was lost yet again. Minhyuk decided things for him, and it was good, honestly, because Wonho didn’t know anything about his place or the people he was about to hang out with, but the fact the other man was always running somewhere, always so talkative and acting like he owned the whole world, gave Wonho occasional whiplashes and ticks. It was confidence, Minhyuk just had lots of confidence.

“So, how’s life?” the other repeated his question.

“Oh, it’s great, had some classes throughout the day, nothing too special.”

“Yoga?” Wonho started to really chat quite a lot with Minhyuk. They only got introduced to each other a week ago, but sometimes hours of meetings and pre-work warm-ups and makeup sessions went by extremely quickly when there was someone like Minhyuk to talk to. He hadn’t seen Hyungwon since Sunday, and they hadn’t talked (exchanged a couple of words out of manners) since Saturday, and Wonho missed him, for no reason, he didn’t have a reason to miss him. He couldn’t wait to see him now.

“Yep.” The security guy extended a card to Wonho, and Minhyuk grabbed it instead, going to the turnstiles and pressing a card.

“Come on, go through, quickly.”

Wonho did, and he still felt like a burglar, even if he got inside legally, it felt weird. So this was the place he would have to visit every once in a while if he was commanded to do so. Minhyuk finally gave Wonho his guest card, they ran up the stairs, and it was a corridor full of glass windows and doors, and he figured it was where the dance classes were, but he wouldn’t really know because Minhyuk dragged him up another flight of stairs. It was another similar looking corridor, wider and with fewer doors.

“We’re usually here because classes are bigger, the classes on the floor below may still have students so we don’t go there, and the room upstairs is for ballet classes, come here.” Minhyuk rambled and grabbed Wonho’s wrist to lead him down the corridor, before he stopped to open the door and pushed him inside.

It was a big white room with a barre along the wall behind Wonho and a huge mirror wall in front. Two poles were already set up on the sides, and in the very middle of the room was a big metal overhead stand, like a goal’s gate, except it had only two straight legs and a horizontal rod connecting them, and Wonho already had a vague idea about the dance the three were planning for the next week.

Wonho just noticed Kihyun standing in the opposite corner from him next to the stereo system, and the short man turned around and waved.

“Hey, you can sit down here and relax if you want.” Kihyun suggested and Wonho followed, because there was nothing else he could do. Hyungwon wasn’t here.

“Hyungwon still has a class but he’s supposed to be done. What is he doing for so long, fucking hell?” Minhyuk cursed and reached for his phone, and Wonho’s ears perked up at the words.

“A class?”

“Yeah, he’s a dance teacher, it’s what they do.” Minhyuk replied off-handedly while still staring at his phone, and Wonho felt like he was receiving a godly revelation. Hyungwon was an actual dancer and a qualified teacher. And how couldn’t he think of this before? So many things made sense. Or, well, at least just the fact that Hyungwon could dance and choreograph that beautifully even though he was technically a stripper.

Hyungwon came in about five minutes later when Wonho was entertaining himself by arguing with Kihyun and Minhyuk over their Instagram pictures and why Kihyun’s overall aesthetic was better than Minhyuk’s, even though the latter claimed to be the artistic one of the two. Wonho didn’t question the nature of their relationship, reasonable ideas already established in his mind, and he didn’t ask why Hyungwon appeared so often on their account. Wonho was also too scared to request to follow the other.

“Hey guys, sorry, got delayed there,” Hyungwon peeked into the room and came in when he was sure it was where they were supposed to be.

Minhyuk rolled his eyes. “Whatever, let’s go see what we have already. Oh, Wonho’s here, by the way.”

Hyungwon smiled and waved. “Hey, Wonho, how are you?” he walked to the middle of the room, and from where Wonho was sitting, back propped against the mirror, Hyungwon was so tall and wavy in his favourite black overstretched sweatpants and a white shirt that finally didn’t look as big as the other ones. At least his elbows saw the light of the day.

Wonho smiled back and waved his phone, old resolutions thrown aside and forgotten. “I’m good. Hey, can I follow your Instagram? Minhyuk gave me theirs already.”

Hyungwon looked a bit confused. “Yeah, sure. Just request me, I’ll add you later.” With that he approached the mirror and put his own phone on the floor, walking away immediately and standing by the right pole, and in the short seconds the man was next to him, Wonho could see the little drops of sweat on his caramel skin, black bangs that looked sticky and damp grey spots on his t-shirt that spread all around the collar, on his back and his chest. He must have danced a lot just before coming here for a practice. Wonho got concerned whether he ate enough to afford to spend so much effort every day but remembered it wasn’t his business.

“So, let’s listen to the song again and revise what we have already.” Minhyuk clapped his hands and walked to the pole on the left. “Wonho, you can judge and give us feedback later.”

And pressure landed on his shoulders. He couldn’t just watch Hyungwon, he had to watch everyone, and it was a very clear and normal command, and Wonho couldn’t believe he had to mentally prepare himself for something as trivial and simple. “Alright.”

Kihyun turned on the stereo and ran to the middle goal-like pole, and Britney Spear’s nasal vocals hit his ears.

 _One, two, three, not only you and me_ , and the three men started moving with every clap of the beat, Minhyuk and Hyungwon going down and Kihyun remaining with hands on the rod, only hips sensually swaying from side to side.

It was interesting, watching them practice a dance they were supposed to strip to in a few days but wearing ordinary sports clothes. The current dance wasn’t sexual in any way, didn’t have a single intention of seducing, and with the men fully clothed and expressions concentrated, it was much easier for Wonho to divert his gaze from Hyungwon and stop looking for things to lock in his ‘to jerk off to’ box and actually start watching the dance, how it fit with the song and how well could the three men pull it off.

They managed to reach the second chorus, Minhyuk and Hyungwon joined Kihyun in the middle and danced with the hands up on the overhead rod. This is where the choreography was finished, and when Kihyun continued to move, Minhyuk turned to him and started speaking incredibly loudly – not shouting, but threatening enough – and Hyungwon ran to the stereo to turn the music off, and Wonho could distinguish the words better. 

“What are you doing, we agreed to stop after the second chorus, so the second verse starts with Hyungwon climbing this thing and doing his thing.” Minhyuk sounded irritated, and Kihyun widened his eyes in misunderstanding and spread his arms, gesture questioning.

“No, we didn’t. When? We said that we will dance the first lines together here, then it’s you who takes the second part, then Hyungwon does the bridge.” Kihyun explains, voice louder than usual and obvious notes of anger buried somewhere in his throat. “Didn’t you say you wanted transitions in the spotlight from the pole to the goal?” he turned to Hyungwon and the latter shrugged.

“I meant, yes, it was my plan, but it’s open for negotiation.” Hyungwon replied, and Minhyuk slapped his arms on the sides, breathing out loudly.

“Well, what the fuck? I thought we agreed that I was going to be in the bridge?” he bordered on shouting.

“I don’t want you to be in the bridge, I want Hyungwon to get the spotlight on this one!” Kihyun raised his voice too, and Wonho didn’t know what to do. He fought the urge to bring his hands to his ears.

“What, why? I wanted the spotlight too, we talked about literally yesterday!”

“Because Hyungwon is better at this than you!”

The said man whipped his head faster than lighting at the words and looked at Kihyun with wide eyes and a slight, barely visible, single shake of his head.

Minhyuk frowned, and it was as if his posture shrank. “Why would you say that?”

Kihyun threw his head back and exhaled loudly. “Whatever.” With that he turned to leave the room.

The two remaining men turned their heads to Wonho. He wasn’t prepared for that kind of scene. Minhyuk and Kihyun always seemed incredibly close, like a mix of a very old married couple that didn’t have strength to fight and young high school sweethearts that just found out what sex was. Seemed like life outside of the club was a little bit different to what Wonho was used to seeing.

“So, what do you think of the choreography so far?” Minhyuk asked, a sudden small expectant smile tugging at his lips, and Wonho was lost.

“Yeah, it’s alright, it was bit repetitive at some points, but overall – good.” Wonho smiled through the fear that Lee Minhyuk inflicted, and next to the scary man, he could see Hyungwon giving him a smile back.

Then the two turned to each other, and Hyungwon exhaled loudly, just how Kihyun did a moment ago. “I’m going to the toilet.” With that he left the room, and Minhyuk groaned through the gritted teeth.

“Whatever, tell me more about how the choreo should go, I really want to know your opinion.”

They spent a few minutes talking to each other about the dance, Wonho even got up and tried to show a few movements, but he couldn’t get what he saw out of his mind. He wondered if Hyungwon witnessed this kind of arguments every day, and if reacted as passively as he did today or was a direct participant. Minhyuk was scary when he was angry, and Wonho didn’t feel like doing anything that would cause an outburst in the other man. They weren’t even friends yet, and Wonho was a polite person at nature.

Hyungwon came back soon, and Minhyuk made an exasperated face when he realised the man was alone. “Where is my boyfriend?” he shouted across the room, anger not present anymore but something spicy still remaining. Wonho felt like watching his parents fight, and a weird feeling was born in his gut.

Hyungwon huffed. “Where is _your_ boyfriend? Well, wherever you sent _my_ boyfriend, I guess.” Hyungwon emphasised the possessive pronouns and stopped by the wall next to the door to drink some water. It felt vaguely like jealousy, the feeling in Wonho’s stomach.

“He’s not your boyfriend.” Wonho didn’t want to show any confusion on his face so he looked down, and he heard Hyungwon snicker with water in his mouth.

“Like that he will soon stop being yours either,” he said after swallowing, and Minhyuk clicked his tongue. 

“No, seriously, Hyungwon, where is he?”

“Kihyun is nowhere to be found!” Hyungwon spread his arms and shook his head, acting up and sounding a bit too dramatic. “Go look for him yourself.”

“It’s alright, guys,” the door opened and Kihyun came in, and Wonho mentally sighed in relief. He looked normal, like the argument ten minutes ago didn’t happen, “I was in the toilet washing my hands because they got clammy with all the frustration.”

Minhyuk gave Kihyun a long stare, and it was a weird one. Like he was worried about the other, but at the same time it was as if he was asking for an apology, and it felt too intimate, like Wonho once again witnessed something he wasn’t meant to be a part of, and when Kihyun met his eyes, Minhyuk clapped his hands and did the tight-lipped professional smile.

“Okay, let’s try to move the dance forward. So I stay in for the second verse, let’s try to come up with something.” They took their positions, this time without music. “From the second chorus.” And Minhyuk started counting, the three of them moving simultaneously and perfectly in sync.

One, two, three, four, and the teamwork was just as good as it was with music, and Wonho spaced out for too much instead of watching the dancers coming up with the rest of the routine. They spend an incredible amount of effort and resources on a performance in a strip club, and Wonho could only be a little envious of the relationship the three men showed. It was a real team, and Wonho finally formulated the thought that he wanted to be a part of that, in his head. He could be closer with Hyungwon, even if the tall, gorgeous and incredible man wasn’t available anymore. It was fine. Wonho could deal with the rejection.

They were done about half an hour later, and they finished everything up to the bridge. To Hyungwon’s part. Seemed like it was fate that Wonho wasn’t meant to see the other dance outside of the intensely lit stage and seducing clothing. Today was already a blessing, fine.

Everyone started packing to leave, Wonho helped to undo the poles and Kihyun started piling them all on his shoulders, but Wonho couldn’t allow the other to lift all that weight on his own and offered his help. The short man gratefully accepted it and hanged all the screws and extensions in a bag on his hand and piled up all the poles on his shoulders. They left the room, and Kihyun volunteered to show Wonho the way to the storage, as he was going to the changing room anyways. Minhyuk and Hyungwon stayed behind to gather all their stuff and said they would wait just outside the dance room.

Wonho dropped the entire heavy burden off his shoulders in the storage, which was fairly big and filled with all the dance goodies like portable ballet barres, mats and even used costumes, and from what he had seen so far, he could conclude that it was a great place to work at. He hoped Hyungwon got lots of money for his hard work and amazing dancing, even though he didn’t even know what kind of dance he taught at such a prestigious-looking dance school. He was probably amazing at so many genres, but Wonho couldn’t yet put Hyungwon’s face to anything other than pole dancing so far, and his body plasticity indicated that he was at least extremely good at that.

When Wonho found his way back to the corridor where the dance rooms were, he noticed Minhyuk and Hyungwon standing outside the door and talking in hushed whispers, and Wonho unconsciously slowed down. He didn’t want to listen to their little secrets, it was not his place to, but he suddenly found himself interested in everything that concerned Hyungwon, and that included things other than how he looked in his underwear and fully without it, but Wonho couldn’t really tell what exactly. Maybe he just wanted to figure out whether Hyungwon was single, for starters.

“Stop fighting him so often, he works too much, he’s already overly stressed.” He heard Hyungwon’s harsh muffled voice, and judging by the way Minhyuk still faced Wonho with his back and Hyungwon was talking, they didn’t notice him unwillingly creep behind.

“I work a lot too.” Minhyuk said and clicked his tongue.

“Minhyuk, you quit your job.” And Hyungwon’s words fell like the sharpest knife right in his throat, even if they weren’t directed at him. They both had their arms folded, and Minhyuk drew in a harsh breath and leaned closer.

“I quit my job so I could spend more time with him.” His voice was lower than usual and as if strained and pleading, like he was justifying himself, and Hyungwon sighed, wrapped his arms around Minhyuk and pressed him to his chest, and it was a cue for Wonho to pretend to be a decent human being.

So he walked loudly and breathed harder, a smile on his face. “Hey, I put the poles in the storage room, oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt!” he acted out an embarrassment, and Hyungwon, with his face a little melancholic and mouth pouty, narrowed his eyes for a second and shook his head, as if saying ‘no, it’s alright, man’.

“Don’t worry, it’s a friendly hug. Thank you.” Hyungwon smiled, and Wonho’s heart fluttered just a tiny bit.

Minhyuk detached himself from the taller man’s chest and got out of the hold of his long limbs, turned around and smiled at Wonho too. His eyes were slightly wet and the tip of his nose was tinged a pale pink. “Let’s give you a friendly hug too!” Minhyuk bounced in one place and ran up to Wonho to suffocate him in the cage of his own thin arms, and Wonho couldn’t do much else other than laugh and fake cough.

“Oh, bonding time?” he heard Kihyun’s voice and steps approaching from both sides, and Hyungwon lightly tapped Minhyuk’s back to make him let go of Wonho, and he was genuinely grateful. Minhyuk was strong. But he also wouldn’t mind Hyungwon hugging him too, but maybe not this time.

“Did you get our stuff? Okay, let’s go.” Minhyuk grabbed Kihyun’s forearm and interlinked their elbows, threw one of the bags and a jacket the short man was carrying to Hyungwon, and the pair speedwalked fast down the stairs. Wonho exchanged a look with the tall man, and they smiled at each other, and Wonho’s heart didn’t stop fluttering. They calmly followed Kihyun and Minhyuk in silence, and Wonho’s inner world was bursting and wailing in he didn’t know what. Hyungwon looked so relaxed; tired, but relaxed, like he was enjoying the moments of silence after a busy intense day. Wonho didn’t want to disturb that.

“See you tomorrow, come here again, I’ll tell you the time and all that!” Minhyuk shouted as Kihyun dragged him to the parking space on the other end of the lot, and Hyungwon stopped next to him and smiled.

“My car is that way too.”

Wonho smiled and waved a goodbye, and Hyungwon leisurely walked in the same direction as the other two, and Wonho was left alone. He turned around, resisting the urge to look at Hyungwon’s decreasing figure, and tried to find his own car in the dark.

 

Hyungwon was a kind man, Wonho thought later at night when he realized the other accepted his follow request and followed back. Wonho had a little bit of a promotional account – he preached yoga and healthy food, shared his work-out routine, filmed occasional stretches on a pole as if he was just good at holding on to random objects than a real dancer, and posted his face, because his face was good too. He had a decent number of followers, reaching several thousand, and always found new clients through DMs and other working contact info he shared. Hyungwon, on the other hand, oriented on his private life, and it was beautiful in every way possible.

It seemed like he frequently had someone to hang out with, because most of the pictures of him were taken by others, and he posed next to random buildings, walls and even funny-looking trash cans to show his outfit and enormously long legs. He rarely took selfies. Wonho took screenshots of every single one, and he had nothing to be ashamed of. Hyungwon had different hair colors too, like dark rich silky brown, or dirty blonde, or even faint lilac on literally one picture. He also posted other people, especially Minhyuk and Kihyun and other guys from the club, and there was this cute photo of the three sitting in some music studio with Jooheon, the bartender, and laughing. They all seemed like one huge family. Wonho wanted to be a part of it too.

Older pictures from about two years ago were filled with one particular guy, and Minhyuk and Kihyun starred in much more of them than now. There were also pictures from the dance school, but it was mainly just Hyungwon kneeling next to a group of small kids or standing in a middle of a group of teens, and they all looked happy. It always felt weird realizing that Wonho’s crushes had lives of their own, and that they lived long and had other people around them, went to places and shared memories. He always felt a bit jealous of this, but there wasn’t much he could do, so he just let a tear or two slip at how gorgeous Hyungwon looked twenty four seven and went to sleep.

 

The next day, ironic to his life struggles, it was Hyungwon who met him in the foyer of the dance academy, and Wonho forgot all his resolutions he wrote down the other night that included to not follow every single one of Minhyuk’s command, but if they involved seeing Hyungwon just like that, smiling softly and wearing that ludicrous green flannel shirt, waiting for him on the stairs with the most angelic face the earth had the decency to create, then Wonho would happily become a puppy on a leash. He would never admit it loudly even to himself, though, which was why he put on the most handsome grin he could pull out and waved casually.

“Hey!” Wonho passed the turnstile and smoothly went for a high-five, and it was a huge relief when Hyungwon got him immediately and prepared to high-five back. Maybe they were soulmates.

“How was your day today?” Hyungwon started as they went up the stairs, and Wonho forgot how to breathe for a second because the other man’s voice was low and calm, perhaps tired but not losing the polite notes of interest in Wonho’s life, and he smiled further, lowering his head.

“It was alright, thank you, what about you?”

“Alright too, I suppose? Just finished with my lessons so I’m a little tired, but it’s always great to gather altogether and practice, you know?” Hyungwon was talking like he really wanted Wonho to absorb all the information he shared out of common sense of hospitality, and he just noticed how nasal the other man’s voice actually was, like he was ill but too lazy to blow his nose and make it easier for himself.

“Are Minhyuk and Kihyun here yet?” they reached the right floor and Hyungwon lead him to the same room as yesterday.

“No, not yet, they’ll probably be here in about five minutes.” They entered, and there was another unfamiliar man standing in the middle of the room and trying to reach the ceiling while standing on a chair, and Wonho froze, not expecting another occasion for meeting new people. “I asked Hyunwoo to help me set up the poles for us.” Hyungwon explained and walked towards the man.

Hyunwoo, as he was introduced, got down and smiled, and he had the kind of body build Wonho loved to grind on in his old club, and something tingly ran down his chest to the stomach at the sight of the thick arms and adorable wrinkles in the corners of his eyes.

“Son Hyunwoo, nice to meet you.” The man extended his hand and Wonho took it, smiling back.

“Wonho, nice to meet you too.” They let go, and Wonho’s eyes immediately caught Hyungwon’s gentle smile as he watched their short interaction. Something close to fear stung in his stomach again as he noticed the light glint in Hyungwon’s eyes when the tall man put his elbow on the broad shoulder and patted the sculpted chest hidden behind a tight black t-shirt.

“Hyunwoo is practically the owner the school, he is the main manager and the main teacher, and we’ve been working together for about four years now?” Hyunwoo nodded, and they looked cute together, Wonho thought.

“Well, I have sorting out stuff to do, I’ll see you later.” Hyungwon hummed and lightly slapped Hyunwoo on the back when he took a step to leave. “See you later.” Hyunwoo waved when he passed by Wonho.

“I’ll help set up the poles.” Wonho reassured, even though he wasn’t asked to, and Hyunwoo shouted a ‘thank you’ right before closing the door. Now they were alone with Hyungwon in the same room. Wonho had to turn on a sneaky snake and start a conversation.

“He seems nice.” He gestured towards the door, and Hyungwon smiled in acknowledgement, although slightly amused.

“Yeah, Hyunwoo’s great. He’s my closest friend here, actually. Should we set up the room?” Hyungwon asked while Wonho inconspicuously sighed with relief at the use of ‘friend’ towards Hyunwoo, and when his heart stopped being annoying, he smiled and nodded enthusiastically.

They exchanged a basic chat about their work schedule because there wasn’t much they could talk about, and Wonho was too scared about getting personal when he wasn’t even announced as the official friend of the squad yet. He didn’t want anyone to feel uncomfortable around him. So he suffered and went with the flow, until Minhyuk banged into the room and disturbed the peaceful atmosphere they set up around themselves along with the poles.

“Good evening, fellow men that appreciate other men, let’s work!” Minhyuk exclaimed as he stomped inside and threw his bag somewhere in the corner, and Wonho contained a laugh at the familiarity of the overdramatic and loud Minhyuk. He possessed insane amount of power. He could probably break the chair Wonho was standing on with his mind, and suddenly his usually muscular and strong legs felt wobbly at the thought.

“Warm up first, idiot.” Kihyun came in too, and Wonho felt a slight relief. There was someone to contain the beast in the room.

“You warmed up?” Minhyuk’s voice immediately got calm and normal as he turned to Hyungwon.

“Yeah, I’m warmed up.” Hyungwon replied in the same small voice, and Wonho admired the scene from the height of his chair, and only when Minhyuk looked up at him and nodded in his direction in a question he missed, did he wake up and continued screwing the pole.

“Wonho is not dancing, he doesn’t need to warm up.” Kihyun replied instead, and Wonho nodded furiously, hurriedly finishing the setting up and climbing down. It was one thing getting caught staring by the person you were staring at, it was possible to switch their attention to something else, but it was a completely different deal when there was a witness to your creepy behavior. Not one but two, at that.

Minhyuk and Kihyun stretched quickly, improperly, even though it seemed like Kihyun was already prepared. Wonho realized that he never actually asked the two what their other occupations were. Why did Kihyun have such strong chest and arms, what kind of job did Minhyuk quit. Wonho had an involuntary shiver running down his spine at the memory of his stupid behavior the other day and the bit of the conversation he overheard. Minhyuk seemed fine today, so did Kihyun, Hyungwon too. Hyungwon always looked nice.

The practice went surprisingly quickly and in a hurry, like Minhyuk and Kihyun were running to get somewhere. It wasn’t the most thorough ran-through, and the whole dance went along to Minhyuk’s loud counting and everyone’s vague blabbering like ‘so I climb that, do that, then last chorus, then we get here, then me, then you, then finish’. The only exciting part was Hyungwon climbing the goal-like pole and hanging off it like a monkey, because the tall man seemed to have no will or energy to do what he was meant to. Maybe it was for the better – Wonho wouldn’t have to suffer with what he usually suffered with.

After forty minutes of lazy grinding and rehearsing Minhyuk exclaimed in an indecipherable noise and grabbed Kihyun by the arm to make him gather the things they threw all over the room in a hurry upon coming here. Wonho gave Hyungwon a puzzled look, and the other man mouthed a very clear ‘date’ with his plump big lips, and Wonho nodded with a silent ‘ah’. At least someone had a love life, even though it wasn’t clear what kind of love life it was.

“Okay, bye, see you later at some point!” Minhyuk shouted as he stormed out of the room with Kihyun in his hold, and Wonho’s words of farewell hit the closing door.

It was just the two of them in the room now, Hyungwon and him. Didn’t seem like the tall planned to stay for long thought. “Should we pack up again then?” Wonho was sat by the mirror and Hyungwon was standing near one of the poles, and he could only hope the slight plea in his gaze didn’t transmit through the slight distance. Hyungwon smiled at him expectantly.

“Yeah, of course, I’ll help you.” Wonho got up with a hoarse groan of physical exertion, and he could feel fully how numb his butt actually was. He should have warmed up with the three men when they offered.

They packed the poles together, and Wonho yet again volunteered to bring them all by himself to the storage. They stopped in front of the doors outside the room.

“I know the way now, thank you.” Wonho smiled through the pain the metal imposed on his shoulder, and Hyungwon smiled back gratefully.

“I’ll see you later then, Wonho.” And Hyungwon walked off in the direction opposite the changing room. Wonho shrugged – maybe there was another one, but he still felt just a tiny bit sad. He could share a few more words with the other man.

He dropped the poles in the storage room, moved down the corridor towards the staircase and saw the light in one of the dance rooms, further than the one they used today. Maybe it was Hyunwoo, who knew. Wonho had to get home and work on his managing stuff for his yoga classes; he didn’t have time for anything else, even pining after Hyungwon.

He walked down the stairs. It was weird calling it pining, it was something… lighter than that, but strong nonetheless. Extreme sexual frustration? Didn’t feel right, Wonho could always get laid if he wanted to and whenever he wanted to, so it wasn’t that. Maybe he had a male menopause, like the one that came in the mid-twenties and disturbed something in the hormones – he wasn’t a scientist, he had no clue what any of that shit was. Maybe he started to age too early and his body had a sudden depression independent of his brain, so it felt less good-looking than it actually was and desired a pretty boy to give love to it. Wonho didn’t even know how old Hyungwon was. He was a professional dancer, he was a certified choreographer and a teacher, so he must have had some kind of life experience. Namjoon said he had been working at his club for ages. What if he was older than Wonho? That would be embarrassing, to him at least, or rather, to his body, since it was possibly his body that developed insecurity and love deficiency. Wonho did have a well-paid job, but what if Hyungwon earned more? Gosh, he knew nothing about the man and he already thought of him so much. Him, his dancing, his body. Hyungwon had a really pretty smile too. Wonho didn’t even know if the other could laugh at all, it was ridiculous.

He walked out on the parking lot and reached for his pocket to unlock his car when he realised. He left his wallet in the studio, on the floor. His driving license was there, lots of things were there. With the panic signal in mind Wonho rushed back to the building, calmed down and quickly walked past the guards with a casual ‘forgot something there’, then ran faster than a lighting to the needed floor, thanks to his good legs and great lungs, and bumped into the door of the dance room. He tried the handle. It was open.

A wave of relief washed down his entire body when he turned on the lights and spotted the black rectangular thing on the floor by the mirror. He picked it up, kissed the leather and held it tightly in his arms. That was too stressful for such a relaxed Wednesday night.

Wonho found himself in the now familiar corridor again, and something seemed unusual about it. He heard quiet music coming from one of the rooms further down that had the lights on. There were narrow windows next to the doors so that it was possible to peek at whoever was inside, however, people that were in the room couldn’t see who was creeping because the glass was black from the inside. Wonho wasn’t really risking anything if he just took the quickest look at what was going on. He secretly hoped it was Hyungwon.

The closer he approached, the clearer he could here a classic pop tune from early 2010’s, something that sounded suspiciously like Lady Gaga. The tune changed, Wonho stood directly in front of the window that was a little bit lower than his head, he hunched, ‘Judas’ dropped the beat, and it was Hyungwon. Hyungwon was dancing after ten in the evening in the empty dance room, and he played what seemed to be his favourite genre of music. Good, old, but not too old, American pop.

The room was a pleasant beige colour with light vinyl flooring, so unlike the snow white walls of the other room and its pitch black floor, and Hyungwon contrasted with the surrounding with his green flannel shirt and that ridiculous white t-shirt with a girl’s nude print on it, and Wonho could admire his relaxed position and dangling limbs for a second before the man twitched with the second line of ‘Judas, Juda-ah-ah’ and set off into the movements.

He moved sharply like a Japanese butcher’s knife and fast like a ninja, and Wonho could hear the disorderly thuds of his sneakers through the music and his own love-struck daze. So Hyungwon could do hip-hop too, even to a Gaga’s song. He full on bodyrolled and circled his hips to every ‘ah-ah, ah-ah’ of the pre-chorus, which was quick and rhythmic and wild, and his face said it all with the way he frowned and bit his lower lip, like he was really feeling the essence of such a simple lyric. He copied the movements from the music video at the chorus – raised his arms one by one and formed a heart, but he added something of his own, something fast and powerful, and every single movement precise and filled with energy that Wonho could only imagine the other man got from so late in the evening. The coordinated yet chaotic rocking stopped when he dropped on his knees and raised his intertwined hands in front of his face and looked up with the mouthful of ‘I’m in love with Judas, Juda-as’, and it was both sinful in its action and heavenly in its execution, just like everything Hyungwon did. The devil-like movements, the angel-like face, and it switched all around when the Gaga started chanting the name again and Hyungwon started dancing with all the fierceness in his eyes.

It seemed like a worked out choreography, every shuffle of the feet and twitch of the wrists so on beat and clear, so Wonho got caught in surprise when Hyungwon stopped mid-verse and paced around aimlessly with his hands on his hips and head lowered as he waited for the second chorus to begin. He danced as sharply as he did before, but when the bridge slowed the pace down, Hyungwon turned to melted plastic and flowed into each following movement, descending on the floor and as if reaching for something unreachable, adding element of lyrical dance with his face and dramatic clinging of his hands to his chest with the words of the song, and Wonho, fully immersed in his dreamy admiration, shuddered when the other man jumped from the full kneeling into the plié in second position, and continued the sentimental hip-hop he created as if it was his own personal genre.

Hyungwon froze in the ending position when the music stopped, and Wonho barely resisted the urge to clap and scream a ‘bravo’. He wasn’t meant to be found, he aimed to achieve success in his unplanned mission of the voyeuristic stalker, but even his morals couldn’t turn his eyes away from the way Hyungwon threw his flannel shirt to the side, and Hyungwon’s long and shapeless legs in the black sweats carried him to the stereo system at the back of the room.

A slow uncertain note released itself from the speakers, and Wonho frowned and brought his head closer to the window to recognize the muffled sound better. In a moment, classical music flowed out of the metallic grid of the speaker and spread along the walls of the room, stuck to the windows for Wonho to hear more of it, and he could care less about the background musical accompaniment when Hyungwon threw the t-shirt over his head and stood just like that, absolutely blind to the astonished pair of eyes that opened wider at the sight of the lean dry torso, so exposed and so natural, so simple without the excessive décor it seemed almost vulnerable, so easy to crush. Hyungwon’s bare shoulders and his strong yet narrow back moved with each check of the muscles, his flat shaped stomach relaxed and contracted with each breath, and the skin of arms barely trembled when the man shook his limbs to relieve the tension, and Wonho traced every inch of the saturated caramel skin with his eyes until he stopped and had to hold in a gasp and ignore the strange feeling in his stomach coiling into a rock.

It felt like finally winning the award he long desired to get but not actually being present at the ceremony. It felt like he was a puppy being teased with a treat for so long he became a real good boy just for it to be thrown in the wired cage that unlocked from the inside. It felt like receiving the nastiest spoiler for the most interesting show he was hooked on and crying at the necessity to continue watching it despite knowing the plot. This was what it felt like when Wonho saw the two little brown dots of Hyungwon’s nipples the other always covered by pasties, and it was unbelievable. It was unbelievable and extremely sad, because Wonho wasn’t there to feel the sensation of the hard tiny bead under his fingertips or under his tongue, and – oh, fuck. It _was_ the sexual frustration Wonho kept feeling at the sight of the man on the other side of the glass.

Hyungwon took of his sneakers and the socks and rolled his sweatpants to the mid-calf, and to Wonho it was the littlest amount of clothing he had seen the other wear. He didn’t need no bodysuits or leather booty shorts to make his blood pressure rise; seeing Hyungwon in just his black oversize sweats was enough to give him a heart attack and something strangely warm in his insides.

The other reached for his bag, and the naturally tanned skin stretched over his hunched back, his thin spine and ribs, and he still looked beautiful; in the elegant way he took a pair of beige split-sole canvas dance slippers that looked like they’d seen the world with how stretched out and dusty they were; in precise familiar movements with which he pulled the shoes over his feet and twisted his ankles around; in the simple yet such high fashion with which he stood in the middle of the room and looked over himself in the huge mirror wall, with which he carefully watched his limbs as he worked up his arms and legs to warm them up and crack his joints, and with which he bent his torso down and stretched his body.

Really, it shouldn’t have been so unusual. Every dancer could do that, it was basic exercise, Wonho could do that too – hell, he could keep his legs straight and touch the floor with his elbows. But no one possessed the same grace and style as Hyungwon, no one else could bent their back at ninety degrees and push their hips back to create a beautiful arch of the upper body, no one else could look as effortless and boneless when they put their hands on the floor and bent the elbows to get the best out of their legs muscles, and definitely no one else could rise back up and look so calm and so gently blushed. No one could be as beautiful as Hyungwon when they moved, and Wonho didn’t need a comparison to make such a strong statement. It was the objective truth.

Hyungwon did the basic warm-up for another minute and walked closer to the mirror before he started sliding his legs further apart and gently landed into a full side split. Wonho had seem something similar before, when he first saw Hyungwon on stage, back when even sitting on a split was a seducing move to rile the entire audience up, but in the brightly lit dance room, Wonho could only focus on the way the pants wrinkled around his rounded butt and follow the way the small of his back arched forward because he kept his hands on the floor. He wanted to look, admire, silently praise, but it was meant to be so… pure? Hyungwon gave Wonho aesthetics to hold on, not sexual desires, at least not in that moment. Hyungwon was both beauty and sex, but his arched feet and the raised heels that lifted off the ground with the way his knees pushed down onto the floor, and his relaxed bare shoulders and his expressionless face and curious eyes that carefully watched his own body, were nothing short of visual pleasure that Wonho only received from watching someone turn dance into art. And Hyungwon might as well have been the embodiment of art.

He turned into front splits on both legs, made sure his position was impeccable when he checked his own reflection, got up and walked back to the stereo, turning the classical music off and finding something on his phone. Soft piano notes came out, and Wonho had to shake his head and wipe his eyes when he recognized the sequence, to make sure he heard it right.

 _I paint my nails black_ , and he was correct. It was Lana del Rey, the musician of his life, the woman of his heart, the voice of his reason. ‘Black Beauty’ was the song he binged on listening to, and if Hyungwon just so happened to have the same music taste as him and if he could actually create choreographies to such a masterpiece of a song, Wonho might have as well considered himself a goner for the man.

For the few first lines Hyungwon took slow steps around the room, arms flailing lightly at the sides, feeling the music and getting into the mood. _Oh, oh, what can I do_ , and Hyungwon raised his leg in développé à la seconde at the same time as he rose on the ball of his foot, and his hand gently caressed the air above his head as his eyes followed its movement, and it was in this almost freeze frame of the movement when Wonho knew the type of dancer Hyungwon was. His fairy-like walk towards the corner, the soft curve of his wrists, the theatrical expressions on his face as he expressed the music through his body and not his mouth – every single part of his body showed what shaped his character and molded his soul. It was what Wonho could never learn to love fully with his heart but what gave him the insane amount of high pleasure he received through the aesthetic, it was what required sacrifice and pain for beauty and glory, it was what created geniuses and geniuses of generations, it was—

The chorus hit, and Hyungwon flew into the grand jeté, legs strong and straight and arms soft like bird’s wings, and he landed perfectly on the front leg and went immediately into another développé with the back leg, and Wonho saw the power that radiated from Hyungwon’s entire body.

—ballet.

Even if Hyungwon wasn’t dancing on the big stage, even if he wasn’t a Romeo, or a Don Quixote, or a Prince Siegfried, even if he was mixing lyrical and contemporary into his moves, Wonho saw it in him – the spirit of a ballet dancer, something that must have been building him and within him for years and years and that didn’t end up to be his main agenda, but it remained. Ballet always remained.

It was obvious in the way he started his fouettés at long airy ‘black beauty, ooh’ of the post-chorus, how he mingled them with continuous coupé turns and finished off in an extended fourth position with the back leg straight, and he didn’t take in a breathe before he continued dancing away. It was crazy, unbelievable even, just how much strength Hyungwon’s body possessed that allowed him to jump and spin with near exact precision, and Wonho already had his forehead pressed against the window and his hot breath remained on the glass with how uncontrollably fascinated he was.

Hyungwon made the gorgeous song visible, he gave it an image with his body and his movements, and suddenly, every single lyric made much more sense than ever before. He danced contemporary, mixed powerful jerky movements with the flow of the ballet-trained body, and it was crazy. Crazily good. And even with the insane power that he put into getting into an arabesque, turning his hips to create a side tilt, bending and kicking his leg upwards again before falling on the ground with absolute security and fluidity, Hyungwon never lost his charming appeal, never threw away the natural sexiness he possessed even when the situation didn’t need it. It was always there, in his eyes, in his hips, in slight caresses over his upper body he did for choreography, and it wasn’t meant to be riling up, and it wasn’t, not really, but the natural expression of everything he did made his moves… everything. They were everything. They were so much Wonho couldn’t even form words to describe them.

When the song was over and Hyungwon finally had the time to rest and breathe, he didn’t and walked back to the stereo to change the music. Even Wonho felt his chest constricting just watching the other man move his long dancer limbs every half a second, how could Hyungwon possibly not want to sit down and die for a minute or two? Maybe it was all the old ballet training.

 _My lover’s got humour_ , Hyungwon walked into the middle again, and Wonho shook his head to bring the attention back to the other man. His skin started to glisten with sweat, but his face remained determined and not an ounce of tiredness crossed his features. He started moving with _If the Heavens ever did speak_ , and his choreography was structured more like modern ballet than a mix of contemporary and classic ballet. His arm movements got more intense, tougher, and he used his back, his shoulders, followed his limbs and flowed into jumps, but there was always something of his own. _Command me to be well_ , and he fell on his knees smoothly, brought his intertwined hands to his face and beyond, looking up and swaying side to side from his waist up, and this was nothing short of angelic. If the same praying move in ‘Judas’ was full of forbidden sex and blasphemy, this one in ‘Take me to Church’ was worthy of a painting on Sistine Chapel, just as beautiful and heavenly. Hyungwon’s body belonged to the Renaissance, deserved to be copied by the sculptors and preserved by the artistic hands of da Vinci.

Hyungwon rose on his feet and filled the entire space with his dancing, leaped across the room and felt the words through his entire being. It was as if demons clawed at his insides and he arched his back until his ribs threatened to tear his skin, and he mimicked scratching on his chest, and his face grimaced painfully with the words. His tall and lean body jumped up with the ease of a bird but his steps felt heavy, like he stomped the ground in despair and agony, and he had to move, move and move to chase the sin out of his body.

He paced around with the hands on his hips throughout the second verse, probably rethinking the moves or just resting, and set off into the leaps and turns combinations for the chorus, crossing the room and not stopping even after the move was done. He sweated through the chorus and slowed down for the bridge, and Wonho could inhale too. That was until Hyungwon dropped on his back and lifted his hips, feet perfectly arched even on the balls of the feet and knees spread, and he raised on his hands and turned over his arms to put his chin on the floor and raised one leg in the bent position, and it was some crazy contortionist trick Wonho definitely couldn’t pull off, and ‘Amen’s filled the almost motionless transitions when Hyungwon lifted his elbows to carry his entire twisted body on just his hands and pushed the bent leg back, ending up in a perfect front oversplit. The chorus hit with more power than before and Hyungwon put his feet on the ground and smoothly rose upwards, finishing his dancing there. The music continued filling their ears but Hyungwon remained standing and calming down his breathing. _Good God, let me give you my life_ , and Hyungwon dropped on the ground in a star-like position and froze there, only his chest and stomach rising with heavy breaths.

Wonho exhaled in relief. He checked the time. It was late, he had work to do, but he couldn’t pull his eyes off Hyungwon’s lying form on the ground, couldn’t let the legs carry him away. Then the other man sat up, absentmindedly glanced at the window, and Wonho jumped as far away from it as possible. Perhaps this was his cue to leave. Leave Hyungwon alone to his own enjoyment.

Wonho rushed through the corridor and ran down the stairs, past the bored guards and to his car. Everything was with him, his car keys, his wallet, his phone, his clothes, his everything. Everything apart from sanity that he boldly gave to the man without warning him. Wonho was in love, wasn’t he? He fell in love with someone he barely knew but whom he had seen enough to rhyme epithets about. Hyungwon wasn’t known to him, not at all, not even a slightest bit, and it scared him, like a dark room at the end of a dark corridor, like a fish on the depth of an ocean, like quick heavy steps echoing in an empty alley in the middle of the night. He never wanted to crush on people he barely knew; they could be full of surprises and snakes in their cupboards, but Hyungwon was so… well, worth it. His body was, his smile was too. But Wonho knew nothing beyond the polished outer cover, and he didn’t yet have the keys to open the chest. Hyungwon was the Pandora’s box to his Epimetheus, and Wonho was foolish enough to desire to find out what was inside, even if it brought curse upon his world.

With such dramatic mindset he got home, took a shower, jerked off and waited for the weekend to see Hyungwon again.

 

The weekend came sooner than Wonho expected, and an hour before the opening time he sat in the dressing room and drew his eyebrows. He was at the back like last time, and most of his crew was either downstairs eating or stretching on the mats, and the area around him was pleasantly quiet, only muffled chatting and giggling filled the space and kept the air warm. Beautiful. 

“Hey, Wonho,” familiar low friendly voice sounded somewhere behind the mirror, and his hand jerked right when he finished doing the outline of the brow. He peeked over the big light bulbs. Hyungwon was sitting over a row in front of him.

“Oh, hey, Hyungwon, what’s up?” he asked as if his heart wasn’t beating like he did a five hundred meters sprint.

“I’m good. I don’t have much today, I’m at the main guest service and I have a few booked privs tonight. You too, I assume?” Hyungwon spared him a curious glance and turned to his own mirror to apply foundation with a beauty blender.

“I’m mainly in the audience. I don’t have bookings yet, so I’m fishing for cash by providing some good booty to look at.” He laughed at his ridiculous phrasing and felt his heart flutter when Hyungwon snickered too. He had never heard the other laugh.

“That’s normal for a new employee, but since you have as much experience as I do, I’m sure you’ll get something else to do in no time.” Hyungwon reassured him, and Wonho got stuck in math equations. Wonho had been working for about five years now, switching clubs and looking for a different stable job that could make his real career, and now that he finally found the environment he fell in love with and had a manager’s position in his sport complex, he could settle down and go with the flow. Five years was a lot though. Does it mean Hyungwon had been working for just as long, on two jobs as well? They were the same age? They had the same life? They were soulmates?

“Thank you.” He said instead with a shy chuckle, and Hyungwon smiled.

“Can I ask you something?” Oh, that was alarming. Never good. Nah-huh, he didn’t want any questions, Wonho was innocent and he wasn’t ready for the Pandora’s box to open a literal hour before he had to go earn some tips.

“Sure.”

“Hyunwoo told me—do you remember him? The guy from the dance school?” Wonho hummed a yes, because he knew for sure Hyungwon wasn’t looking at him and Wonho wasn’t looking at Hyungwon in fear of seeing something he wasn’t prepared for. The other continued, “He told me he saw you watching me dance the other day after we were done with practice—“

So this was what it was about. Wonho was a creep, and Radiohead wrote that song for him exclusively. What if he scared Hyungwon off? Why would that dude even snitch on him? He had so much rage and anxiety run through his body he felt as if he was buffing up, becoming bigger, greener, stronger, like Hulk, and his mind turned off with the amount of beastly energy he filled himself with, and he was danger.

"—so I wanted to ask you if you liked it? I don’t know how much you’ve seen but if I already took off my shirt by the time you walked by, I would really like to get your feedback.” And he deflated back to normal size and dropped his hands uselessly to the sides. Hyungwon was beautiful. A truly beautiful human being, in and out, with his body and soul, and Wonho was so undeserved. He didn’t even get mad. He wanted feedback, for fuck’s sake, he wanted to know what Wonho thought of him dancing half-naked to the most insane routines he had ever seen, and, “Wonho?”

He shuddered and straightened his back, confident and beautiful like he was. “I’m so sorry I overlooked, I didn’t mean to, but I’m glad I did, because, Hyungwon,” he peeked over the mirror and met the other man’s eyes, big, brown and full of something warm, “it was amazing.”

A beat or two passed, and the room seemed painfully quiet behind the ring in his ears, and he felt cold at his fingertips. Hyungwon smiled, and Wonho breathed out all the pressure he held in his lungs, and mentally patted himself on the back for delivering an elaborative reply without a stutter.

“Thank you so much.” Hyungwon smiled wider and looked back at his mirror, and he suddenly seemed shy. Wonho had never seen Hyungwon shy. “I wanted to ask something else then, would you like to come to practice with me? I figured you did at least some dancing based on your audition, so I thought it would be great to have someone who understood all the shit I attempt to do by my side. What do you say?”

And Wonho had nothing to say. Apart from the overly enthusiastic:

“Yes, sure, of course!” he coughed and corrected himself. “Thank you for thinking I’m good at dancing. I did actually have some training in the past, so I guess something remained from it.” He chuckled and smiled bashfully, hand at the back of his head as he tried to process what just happened. Did Hyungwon just recognize his dance skills and invited him to dance with him… privately?

“Awesome. Your number is in the chat so I’ll text you later when it’s the best time for you to come. Is Monday good for you?” Hyungwon would even text him first. What a man.

“Yeah, only after eight though, I have work before that.”

“Same, so that’s ideal. Thank you, Wonho.” Hyungwon smiled, mysteriously and strangely much more attractive that he usually did, as if he tried to look prettier (which wasn’t needed anyways, if he asked Wonho).

They continued with their makeup in relative silence after more dancers came in and started getting ready too, so Wonho had his precious time to think.

He wished he didn’t have any capabilities to think at all when he was backstage waiting to get out and go straight to work and saw Hyungwon standing on his own just a few meters away. He was leaning on the navy wall, arms folded and face deep in thought as the crystal blue light from the main hall shone over him, illuminating just one half of his face and body. Wonho took half a step with determination to talk to the other when Minhyuk exited his private dressing room, noticed Hyungwon all on his own and approached him. Wonho stayed back.

It was then when he wanted his brain to turn off. When Minhyuk stroke over Hyungwon’s cheek and looked at him in concern, when Hyungwon shrugged and let his hands fall on the other man’s hips, when Minhyuk got on his tiptoes and gave the taller man a slight peck on the lips, and Hyungwon closed his eyes and nodded, like it was a normal ritual they did to cheer each other up.

Wonho had no rational thoughts and let the unexplainable hurt cover the inside of his chest and crawl into his head.


	4. you were my date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im extremely sorry for slow updates
> 
> but this chapter finally leads to something so!! hope you enjoy!!
> 
> comments are kudos are as always very appreciated!

Five a.m. on a cold Friday night – or, rather, cold Saturday morning – Wonho was wiping off his makeup and feeling miserable. Hyungwon was a player, wasn’t he? He knew Wonho was head over heels for him, and he purposefully invited him to spend time with him while all this time he had a secret relationship with Minhyuk who already had Kihyun? Were they both players? Was that why Minhyuk never seemed so close to Hyungwon when Kihyun was around? What was the truth, what was the deal, Wonho didn’t know, and he didn’t think he wanted to, anyways.

Maybe they were in a perfectly happy three-way relationship, and that would also be fine. Why was Wonho even upset? He had tons of open relationships, he never followed any commitment rules and never got jealous or angry unless he was lied to. And Hyungwon wasn’t even his friend. He wasn’t anything, really. Just a dude Wonho fell in love with and because of whom he allowed his hormones to dictate his mood. Unfair.

“Good morning, you look down, you good?” Minhyuk’s raspier than usual voice got him out of the repetitive loop of scrubbing his face off with a dirty wipe, and he woke up to see the other man sit by the same table Hyungwon used just before the show started.

“Yeah, I’m great, just tired, you know? And really hungry.” Wonho said without an ounce of bitterness, and he deserved a candy for this kind of good behavior.

Minhyuk reached into his bag, “Catch,” and threw a cereal bar at him. Wonho caught the treat and gave Minhyuk a look of immense shock. “Eat it, I have tons of those anyways.”

Wonho mumbled a very grateful but sad thank you, because it was unfair how good Lee Minhyuk actually was. He was such a great human being. No surprise Hyungwon loved him so much. And this bar is chocolate too, it was Wonho’s favourite. Gosh, he wanted to cry.

“You do know me and Hyungwon aren’t actually dating, right?”

Wonho choked on the piece he bit off the cereal snack and tried his best to cover the gaggling sound with ruffling of the wrapper.

“Huh?” he asked, not really getting why Minhyuk talked to him all of a sudden. Was it just Wonho’s fate to always get caught doing something weird, like staring at Hyungwon like a creep when he didn’t even know about it? It probably was.

“I just feel like you need some encouragement, so I’m giving it to you. Hyungwon and I and, well, Kihyun, I guess, aren’t in a relationship, he isn’t committed to anyone. We do kind of have this open thing though, but since you are,” he vaguely gestured of Wonho’s sitting form, “like that, I give you my consent.” Minhyuk wiped his own makeup and looked at Wonho who couldn’t swallow the bite he choked on. Minhyuk sighed. “What I’m saying is, I know you like Hyungwon, so you should take every opportunity you have to get closer to him because he can be too unwilling to ask a guy out first.”

Wonho was glad he swallowed the piece of mushed cereals already so he had nothing to choke on anymore. Nothing could kill him now. Apart from shame and a little bit of heart attack.

“Okay, uh,” he looked over his stuff and started packing, unsure what to say. Was it a friend thing? Was Minhyuk being so nice because he considered him a great guy? What if it was a plan to get Wonho into one of their orgies? It would have totally been cool though, so it wasn’t a problem. But everyone knew Wonho liked Hyungwon? Was he that obvious? He wanted to pull at his hair and skin himself so he didn’t have that much confidence in himself, because now he started to think Hyungwon could have something for him too. Potentially. Maybe.

“I’m telling you this as a friend, so if you have any questions, you have my number.” With that Minhyuk got up, winked and left with a huge bag over his shoulder, and Wonho was left there alone in the dressing room, waiting for miracles to happen.

But maybe he didn’t have to wait and he could make miracles happen with his own two hands. 

 

Second Saturday at work, third Saturday in the club, and Wonho still hadn’t gotten used to everything his colleagues and newfound friends could pull out. He kept getting surprised, and he fucking loved it.

The trio Wonho came to watch practicing earlier that week was adamant about keeping the original visualization of the song, and Wonho could only give standing ovations to Hyungwon’s choice of a white thin bodysuit. Very Britney style, if he could judge.

It wasn’t even the best part about the whole attire though. Hyungwon wasn’t wearing any pants or thigh highs or boots, just a bodysuit and white platform heels, and he was exposed from every single angle. Every twitch of the leg muscles was traceable, every curved line of his hollow stomach and gentle transitions to the ribcage and the chest obvious with how the suit stuck to his body like second skin, and Hyungwon seemed to bask in the undivided attention he attracted to himself. His light blue eyes were fierce and narrowed, his skin was sparkling with white highlighter, and his hair was ruffled and messy, and he smirked. He smirked so much.

He smirked when he slowly descended down into the squat with his knees spread and hands attached to the pole, he licked over his lips when he swayed his hips in round motions while gripping to the overhead rod of the goal-like stand, and he smiled teasingly when all three of them leaned down on each other and he slapped Minhyuk’s wiggling ass. That was pure sex – no, not pure. Dirty, perverse sex, overly seducing and cheap in itself, but it was desired like something royal and sacred when it was Kihyun, Minhyuk and Hyungwon that performed it. The made it theirs, they made it worth fifty thousand won for the entrance fees and more, they made one their hip thrust worth a roar of applause and cheering, and they were definitely worth Wonho’s suffering with his poor falling heart.

There was only one reason Wonho even came to watch the stage: the bridge part – Hyungwon’s part. And when it finally hit, Wonho reached for a discarded half-full cocktail glass on the table he was sitting by.

There was a light slap on his naked thigh, and a man – a customer – he was sitting next to gave him an upset look and pouty lips. “He-e-e-ey,” he whined in a drunken muffled voice, and Wonho patted him on the shoulder.

“Sorry, man, my crush is performing.” And he gawked at the stage, eyes never leaving Hyungwon’s long wiry legs, and he gulped, because the other walked slowly, languidly, earning fixed gazes and approval, and his face was cocky and knowing. He knew he was the center of the world.

He gripped the overhead pole and his feet left the ground as he skillfully lifted his upper body with no exertion and hooked his ankles on the rod, hanging off it like a cat. Hyungwon managed to grind even in such an unstable position, and it was nothing short of amazing. The bridge was over, and Hyungwon jumped down just as Kihyun and Minhyuk lined up with him, and the three finished the song with synchronized dance Wonho already saw them rehearse.

A new image was safely put into the mental box ‘to jerk off to’, and Wonho got up from where he was sitting on the arm of the sofa and got back to work. Just another few hours of today, then a whole new Sunday, and after he would talk to Hyungwon again. He finally had the confidence to be sure in that.

 

Nine p.m. on a cold Monday evening, Wonho got out of his car, walked to the dance school and entered the bright white hall just to find Hyungwon sitting on a couch with his phone and looking bored. Wonho called his name.

The other man raised his head and smiled, nearly wide enough to show his teeth, and Wonho’s heart did a backflip.

“Hi, ready to go?” Hyungwon got up and walked up to him, and they maybe both wanted to reach for a hug but hesitated and stood in the same place awkwardly for a second.

“Sure.” They went up the same floor they used last week, and Hyungwon opened the identical room to the one they were before. His stuff was already scattered on the floor.

“Make yourself feel at home,” Hyungwon said, and Wonho smiled. The other called his dance school ‘home’, indirectly, but it was clear in the implication, and something in his chest itched.

They warmed up together, even though Hyungwon was already prepared and didn’t need to waste his time, but he still decided to guide Wonho through the stretching and entertain him with upbeat pop music. It was like they were old friends – the atmosphere was so relaxed and simple, albeit a bit awkward, and Wonho forgot he had the fattest crush on a man who had some open status relationship mess with his other colleagues and the most hidden personality Wonho still couldn’t quite crack. But Hyungwon was Hyungwon, and Wonho liked when he moved to the beat like his body belonged to soundwaves and not this vile materialistic world.

“So what kind of dance do you actually do?” Hyungwon asked when they sat opposite each other on side splits and stretched their upper bodies forward.

“I used to do ballet until my teenage years, then I got bored and tired and switched to breakdancing, but I also had taekwondo and yoga to keep up with, so I was kind of all over the place at some point.” Wonho replied and grunted when he stretched too much and breathing got a little bit difficult. “Then I learned professional pole dancing.”

Hyungwon told him to get up and switch to the front split, facing the mirror. “It’s interesting how you manage to balance stripping and yoga, it’s an amusing combination.” Hyungwon arched his feet, which was easy for him since he took his shoes off, and fixed his hips to get deeper into the split, aiming to close the side with the back leg a little bit.

“Why?” Wonho asked, genuinely confused.

“Why amusing? I don’t know, it’s like,” he twisted his hands in search of words, and Wonho noticed how the other frequently gestured with his hands when he explained something, “they’re complete opposites, you know? Whereas nightlife is also associated with something dark and, forgive my lexicon, blasphemous, yoga helps finding inner peace and spirituality, it’s supposed to relax and reduce anxiety and just generally fix your body and mind where you need it, so it’s interesting how you manage to fit those two together.” Hyungwon elaborated and switched his front leg. Wonho followed.

“Never really thought of it in that sense. I mean, clubs can be pretty relaxing too, don’t you think? Not for the workers, of course, but I don’t feel any pressure working at night and exerting my body, and even if I overwork, I can always go teach yoga classes and relax there. I am fairly mentally healthy, so it’s not a problem for me to combine two jobs.” Wonho twitched his head to the side, thinking of a more negative argument to his monologue. “Physicality wise it can be quite hard, since we also have preparations for the shows during the week, but my schedule allows me to have plenty of time for myself, which I usually spend working out and shopping, depending on whether I want to relax mentally or physically, and somehow like that I learned to manage.”

Hyungwon hummed. “I guess they balance each other out, you’re right.” He smiled and got up.

They had a little bit of a dance off to songs from Wonho’s playlists, and he was happy to find out there were tracks the other didn’t know, so Hyungwon made his dances on the spot, but even those were unbelievably smooth and fitting to the beat. Wonho came to the conclusion that it was a natural instinct, and was about to leave the improvised dance floor and slump by the wall when Elvis Presley’s ‘Jailhouse Rock’ strummed the first note and Hyungwon grabbed his wrist.

“You ever done ballroom dances? With a partner?” he asked loudly through the blasting music and started jiggling on one place. Wonho only a second later realized that Hyungwon was preparing for a swing dance and he had no time to reply when the tall man gripped his second wrist and went full swing around him, smiling and making sure not to hit Wonho’s frozen legs, but he couldn’t move.

Not when Hyungwon smiled so widely and revealed his perfect white straight teeth, not when he opened his mouth and released a high-pitched giggle at Wonho’s subconscious attempts to move, and definitely not when he wrinkled his nose and curved his eyebrows in a funny way as he genuinely laughed at Wonho’s lost pitiful expression, but he couldn’t move; couldn’t detach his eyes from Hyungwon’s beautiful face and his sparkling eyes and his wide mouth that released the prettiest happy sounds. And it didn’t matter how fast and well his hips moved, or how thin and fragile his warm hands looked wrapped around Wonho’s thicker wrists, or how tiny his waist felt under his own palm when Hyungwon put one of his hands on his body, and Wonho couldn’t even bring himself to care.

It could have been the first and last time he got to touch Hyungwon at all, but physical contact seemed so superfluous and secondary when everything that Wonho cared about at that very moment was Hyungwon’s face. Not its natural beauty, not its pretty but unusual features, not its amazing proportion, but something so much more precious – happiness. And it held so much more value than separate physical parts that constructed his face into what it was.

“Are you tired?” Hyungwon let go of him but the small smile on his plump lips and the gentle sparkle in his eyes remained, and Wonho smiled back, still unable to look away.

“A little bit, yeah. Never done swing dance.” He brought a hand to the back of his head and felt his cheeks getting hot, and Hyungwon breathed out a laugh and patted him on the shoulder.

“It’s okay, grandpa, go sit down.” And he just barely got away from Wonho’s playful punch with the same radiant smile on his face and laughed lightly at his fake grunting.

Wonho sat down and inhaled all the realization and feelings that creeped up on him, and the more he admired Hyungwon’s shining face, the more he fell. Hyungwon looked beautiful when he was happy, and Wonho had a sudden urge to become the biggest reason behind the other’s genuine smiles.

Hyungwon turned on some sappy pining song Wonho didn’t know and moved smoothly on one place, practicing his leg extensions. He slowly raised one leg in a développé he knew he executed so well, not bringing it fully to his head and focusing on keeping his position and arms still, before he lightly turned his hips and torso in the direction of the support leg and got into an arabesque, and by the time he established a fixed position his legs already started trembling just a tiny bit. He bent his support knee and rose on his tiptoe before hurriedly lowering his other leg and relaxing. Hyungwon twitched his mouth in a disapproving gesture and got into the first leg position to repeat the same sequence on the other leg.

Really, Hyungwon may have been hard on himself and was never satisfied with tricks he did, but in this spacious yet private space with just the two of them and this quiet love song on the background, Hyungwon was the most beautiful dancer Wonho had ever had the fortune to witness. The word ‘beautiful’ didn’t even have a singular meaning anymore when it came to the tall gorgeous man. The way he was structured, the way his body was built and the way it combined both frailty and strength – that was beautiful. Beautiful in terms of crazy aesthetics that made Wonho’s eyes follow every single element of the picture and that satisfied something deep within him.

Hyungwon’s smile was also beautiful, his crinkling eyes and nose were beautiful, and it wasn’t what Wonho typically called perfect. No, it was so beautiful in all its imperfections and insecurities, and they tugged at Wonho’s heart with red threads. Maybe this was what it was – the beauty of feelings. He admitted it; he was in love and fallen head over heels for the gorgeous legs and peculiar face, but maybe it was the ground he laid on that inserted something deeply romantic for the other man. He observed Hyungwon move and do his own thing, and he wanted to touch him and make him smile, take off his clothes and wrap him in a huge oversized sweater, photograph him nude and simply watch and memorize how his body bent as he practiced ballet and revealed tiny slivers of skin under huge black clothing. Wonho was conflicted, but he knew what he wanted. He wanted Hyungwon, in any sense it could possibly be. Even what they did now, when Wonho sat behind him and admired the other’s reflection in the mirror, he wanted it. The company, the aesthetic, the smiles. Everything.

Hyungwon walked back to the stereo and switched a song to something famous. Adele, right. ‘Set fire to the rain’, a little old by now but still as powerful and nostalgic, especially after having not heard the song in years. The piano played its introduction and the voice commenced the verse, and Hyungwon set off into a lyrical routine. It was as usually amazing, but since the first steps Wonho noticed the overall feel of the dance was wrong, as if something was missing. Hyungwon fit his expression to the sad song and his eyes always wondered around, as if looking for someone, as if he was waiting for someone to come hold him and help him with a pas de deux, but he was alone. Adele threw her soul away in the chorus, and Hyungwon hesitated for a millisecond before suddenly breaking into pirouettes and transitioning them into coupé turns and getting into a contemporary jeté. It was more of a lyrical style dance, so Hyungwon gestured with his arms and sang with his face and focused more on telling the story with his body rather than showing tricks, but it couldn’t have a single character, the choreography wasn’t meant for one person. It was a couple dance.

The second verse was no less miserable. Hyungwon just seemed lost, like the words passed through his body but the movements never reached the person they were meant for, and the occasionally repetitive elements gave away the fact that he was improvising half of the dance. He got into a position right after the pre-chorus ended, but hesitated, stopping in the middle of a pas de bourrée and dropping his posture, shoulders down and head hanging uselessly. Hyungwon put his hands on his waist, like he seemed to do a lot when he was thinking about his next moves, and paced around for a while. The song played intensely, Adele cried her heart out, walls shook with the strong background music, and Hyungwon stood in one place and contemplated something only he knew, and he seemed to oblivious to the world around him, to Wonho’s puzzled stare, to the approaching ending of the song.

Until he suddenly raised his head and stared at Wonho back. Something sparkled in his eyes. “Can you dance with me for a while? I need someone to hold me.” He asked, voice strangely cheerful and hopeful for a positive answer.

Wonho swallowed and blinked a few times. Hyungwon smiled and cocked his head to the side, and Wonho forgot the word ‘no’. “Of course,” he got up with a hoarse grumbling like an old man, “but I’m warning you, I’m not particularly good at contemporary or couple dancing.” He approached the tall man, and Hyungwon hopped to cross the distance.

“Don’t worry about it.” A warm sensation spread somewhere over his chest and his arms, and Wonho froze when he realised Hyungwon pressed his abnormally big palms to his muscles and felt his body, squeezing his biceps and patting his pecs. “You seem strong enough, I’m sure you can endure my weight. How much practice have you had in your life?” Hyungwon snapped his head back up and look like through Wonho’s eyes, and it was possibly the closest he had seen the tall man up close so casually.

“I trained in ballet for about ten years, then I stopped in high school and didn’t dance for a long while, I was just so tired of all this stuff, you know?” Hyungwon hummed shortly in reply and continued staring, eyes so concentrated on his words and something on his face that Wonho took it as a cue to continue. “I did a bit of breakdance and hip-hop and all that stuff, trying to get back into dancing, but it wasn’t for me, so I just trained myself at home and randomly started taking pole dancing classes, so in terms of couple dancing, I’m not the best example.” He chuckled, and Hyungwon quirked his eyebrow, face unimpressed. Did he say something he wasn’t supposed to?

“But do you know the technique and precautions and all that?” Hyungwon stretched his lips in a weird, parent-like smile, and Wonho breathed out a sigh of realization.

“That, right. Well, in theory, yeah, I guess I can do something.”

Hyungwon seemed satisfied with that vague answer and smiled his usual tight-lipped smile, only this time it seemed much more cheerful. “Great! Let’s do this then.”

He turned the music back on and broke into the same routine as before. Wonho was in the middle of a hurricane named Hyungwon and could only stand there and drop his hand to the sides as the body around him was unstoppable and so unpredictable, moving at his own pace and in his own world. _But there’s a side to you_ , Hyungwon leaned on his shoulder and lifted his leg from behind, suddenly smiling sneakily as they made eye contact, and continuing through the _All the things you say_ , and when the drums started hitting it on every beat, Hyungwon stepped further and uttered an unexpected ‘catch me!’.

Wonho’s brain short-circuited as he had a second to see the other man leap towards him and throw his entire body over him, legs wrapping around his waist and arms securely hugging his shoulders, and Wonho could only wow at himself for not even bulging a centimeter from where he was standing. Hyungwon’s entire body was pressed against his, and he pressed his palms to the other’s thin curled back, safely but not strongly enough to keep the man in place. Hyungwon shouted a ‘hold my hips’ and dug his hands hard in Wonho’s shoulder before stretching his legs in a split and letting Wonho hold him in place as he levitated in the air for a second, but even this second was enough to set Wonho’s heart aflame.

Hyungwon got his feet back on the ground and moved away, dancing away on his own for a moment before he grabbed Wonho’s wrist and made an incredibly dramatic face that fit to the lyrics of the chorus, span himself around and somehow ended up behind Wonho, gently putting his hands on his wide shoulders and laying his head on his back, and the position was nothing short of romantically heartbreaking. The routine was angst in its pure form.

They – or rather, Hyungwon who was controlling the whole thing – continued this for a while until the last chorus, when the music got loud and dramatic and Adele’s singing became the definition of pain, and Hyungwon got right in front of Wonho, in the center of the room, and broke into pirouettes, changing into à la secondes, and finishing swiftly and smoothly with the last notes of the song.

Hyungwon stood in the ending pose for a while, catching his breath, and turned to Wonho with a big happy smile on his face.

“Thanks, that was nice.” He exhaled, lungs still slightly unstable after such a powerful routine, and approached Wonho with a raised arm with the intention of a handshake.

Wonho replied to a high five and a shoulder bump and couldn’t quite understand what was going on and who he was. Hyungwon, the man he had a huge ass crush on, just danced a whole lyrical routine on him and with him and then walked up to him with a bro handshake, smiling like making his heart skip a thousand beats was a normal thing to do. Maybe Minhyuk wasn’t right, and Wonho didn’t have a chance. Hyungwon just didn’t seem even a tiny bit interested.

But then he danced so beautifully on his own, mixing his flawless ballet technique and rough modern dance elements, and his long legs were so straight and flexible and reached into perfect splits whenever he did a leap or an extension, and his feet were amazingly arched, and his thin arms flailed around like they were boneless (but Wonho could guess how dense his muscles must have been for him to be able to hold them in a position for so long). It didn’t matter what Hyungwon thought of him – as long as he had the chance to look at him and be near him, he was satisfied. For a while. Because then Hyungwon rolled his sweats to the mid-calves and exposed his dry solid muscles and thin flexible ankles, and Wonho was yet again reminded about how fucking attracted he was. It was plainly sad. He was so blinded by the stupid feelings he took his phone out and recorded a bit of the other man’s dancing for his Instagram stories. He didn’t even have to be sneaky – Hyungwon was too immersed in his own world to notice Wonho intensively staring at him through the mirror.

They finished in about an hour – or, well, Hyungwon did, because Wonho decided to stick with simple sitting by the back wall and admiring. Hyungwon stood near him and gulped down a bottle of water, and Wonho got distracted from staring at his pretty defined throat with the buzz of his phone. It was a message in their ‘monrex’ group chat. Wonho grimaced in disgust.

“Namjoon wants a meeting tomorrow.”

Hyungwon raised his brows. “Seriously? What time?”

“Twelve. Jeez, that’s annoying, I have work tomorrow.” Wonho pouted, and Hyungwon walked closer to him, peeking at his phone.

“Do you know why?”

“Wants to discuss something about the schedules?”

Hyungwon shrugged, finishing his water. “Whatever, let’s just come and be done with it.”

They gathered their stuff and left the room. They went down the stairs with Wonho’s impressed blabbering about Hyungwon’s amazing dancing, because he simply didn’t know what else to talk about, and the other smiled cutely through all the compliments he was showered with. They exited the studio and stepped into the cool night air. It was deadly dark outside, and only the streetlamps on the parking lot shone their ways to their cars. They walked together for a few meters before Hyungwon stopped and smiled.

“My car is that way.” It was the same side as the last time Wonho came. Maybe he had a reserved parking space; he was the teacher in the school after all.

Wonho wasn’t sure what gave him away. Maybe the way he always looked at Hyungwon with some kind of longing, maybe the way he refused to say goodbye and move towards his own car, maybe the twitch of his mouth as he wanted to say something but never found the strength to do so. He didn’t know what it was that made Hyungwon smile so understandingly with slight sparkles in his eyes and propose the next meeting.

“Come tomorrow too? After my classes, we have a session with Minhyuk and Kihyun, I will help them with their new routine. You can come watch and then help me with mine, if you want?” He cocked his head to the side, and his face was so kind and welcoming, like he really wanted Wonho to be there with him, and Wonho barely withheld the tears in his eyes as he was so genuinely touched. Hyungwon had such a great face.

“Of course, I’ll gladly come.” He smiled, and Hyungwon revealed his teeth in a smile back.

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow then, Wonho.” With that he turned around, body before his head, and headed further into the dark, towards his car, and Wonho stood in one place, experiencing the same old déjà vu. Seemed like it was his destiny to always watch Hyungwon’s back and his graceful departure for his car, and the sense of longing was simply overwhelming in his chest. He probably seemed so lonely, basking in his sheer melancholy in the dim-lit parking lot.

He turned around and moved towards his own car.

 

The meeting wasn’t anything interesting until Namjoon casted his gaze on him from the height of the stage and exclaimed a loud ‘oh’.

“Wonho! Do you want to have a solo routine this week?”

He choked on air and gawked at his boss. “Me?”

Namjoon smiled a kind, old man-like smile and lowered his head funnily, until his second chin appeared. “Why not? You should totally do something, you get tons of tips anyways.”

Wonho swallowed, still incredulous at the words Namjoon just uttered, and could only find it in himself to nod weakly. He was offered to perform. Like, really perform. On stage, with his own music and setting, and hell knew he was god-like when above the rest of the world. It was absolutely normal practice back in his old clubs, but in Monstrose Xtraordinaire? It was pressure, it was the desire to do his best, better than his best, he had to be not only beyond himself, but also all the gorgeous dancers around him.

“How about Saturday? Yeah, let’s do Sat, Fridays are too busy at this point.” Namjoon mumbled and wrote something in his notepad, and that was it. He was performing this week, and it was the final decision suggested and approved by his boss. Hyungwon was also performing on Saturday. The pressure started to immensely building up in his chest.

He didn’t have to turn around and look for the man when the mentioned dancer found him first and put a hand on his shoulder. “So you’re performing Saturday? Congrats.” He smiled genuinely at first, and then his expression turned sly. “Guess I have to work harder now to compete with you?” He smirked and patted Wonho on the chest before disappearing just as abruptly into the crowd of their entire staff crew.

Hyungwon was the one that wanted to compete with him. He smirked at him. What the fuck? He couldn’t just do that and expect Wonho to remain adequate. This day was getting too much. He needed a cigarette and a bunch of new outfits. He fucking smirked at him. The audacity.

 

The rest of the week was busy but delightful as Wonho spent the remaining weekdays coming to Hyungwon’s dance school and watching the guys practice. It was a huge step of development in their, well, friendly relationship, and Wonho came home late with a huge smile on his face and big load of information Hyungwon granted him. The other guy was twenty-four, he used to be a ballet dancer but went into modern dance teaching approximately at the same time as he began working at Monstrose Xtraordinaire, and he lived alone. Hyungwon didn’t actually talk as much about himself – or maybe he did, if his whole life simply consisted of dancing and teaching. He talked about how their school competed in national dance competitions, and how the preparation season for the next competition was coming soon, and how he considered choreographing not only three of his classes, but also himself. He was going for that title of the choreographer of the year, and Wonho had never seen the other talk so fast and so emotionally about something as trivial as awards or kids learning something new.

Wonho could and couldn’t relate at the same time. He was a trainer too. He loved his clients, especially when all these nice women listened to him and followed his exact instructions. But yoga wasn’t a competing sport. Dance was. Even when Wonho was learning dance professionally, he refused to go a step further and enter the competition scene – it just wasn’t for him. He had his huge fair of admiration for Hyungwon already, and the fact that the man was so determined to choreograph several competition dances was appraisable. It was also a huge honor to hang out with Hyungwon, Kihyun, who was actually a gymnast in his past life, and Minhyuk, who was just there conquering the stage however he could, and Wonho felt like a very important person. They even posted group selfies in each of their Instagram accounts, and Wonho had the official permission to record snippets of Hyungwon’s contemporary improvisations into his stories.

They did agree to keep their Saturday routines a secret though, so Wonho practiced at home and did everything concerning the club on his own. He was ready. He had his music decided, his outfit re-sewed and prepared, his routine done and approved by Namjoon, and Saturday came.

Everyone was always extremely busy on Saturdays, much more than on Friday. The dressing room was buzzing with noise, all the guys were throwing stuff across the room and shouting, and even Namjoon was there, constantly checking his schedule notes and sorting everyone out.

“Who’s off this week?” his boss shouted.

“Kihyun’s off!” Minhyuk shouted back somewhere from the depth of the room. It was nice to have him in the main dressing. He immediately brought so much colour to the surrounding when he wasn’t trapped in the private space.

“Kihyun? Okay, who can we put then? Wonho, you wanna work this week?” he jerked at the sudden mention of his name and raised his head from where it was crouched over his legs as he tied his heavy black boots.

“Yeah, sure, what do I do?” he shouted a question back, not quite grasping what the whole conversation was about but also catching on the vague idea.

“Privs!” Namjoon replied.

“Alright!” Private shows were fine, they could get him more money. “Is there something particular I need to do?”

“Just look nice and dance around while businessmen in suits discuss black market!”

That wasn’t hard. “Black market? Spicy!” Wonho couldn’t help a childish smile, and Namjoon raised an eyebrows.

“Just remember the confidentiality point – whatever you hear the clients say, you keep to yourself.”

“Okay, gotcha!” with that their shouting conversation was drowned in the loudness of his colleagues, and Wonho returned to finishing polishing his boots with a stupid smile on his face. He was doing better and better with each week.

Not well enough to be offered a private dressing yet, but good enough. Hyungwon wasn’t in the main room, and Wonho still had to clue what the other man’s stage was going to be like. He seemed determined to stay as impressible as he always was, even though it was unlikely for Wonho to physically deafen the screams for Hyungwon. The tall man considered him good enough to promise to work harder. Now that was a whole new level of compliment, and Wonho was flooded with sudden confidence and admiration, and he knew he was good. Fuck, he was fucking amazing. He got this. He would go out there and make the man of his dreams acknowledge him like a fucking legend that he was. He couldn’t ask for more just yet.

 

Some things weren’t hard to do. Some things just required patience and strong will, and certain things were different for certain people. Conquering the world? Say no more. Doing your bed? Sorry, I didn’t quite hear it right. There were just things that people didn’t consider important to do, or maybe they forgot, or maybe they weren’t taught them, or maybe they were just lazy. But even such thing as laziness showed itself in the most peculiar ways, understandable for some and absolutely shocking to other. Even mental activity could be the cause of laziness for some. In the end, thinking required a lot of energy.

Minhyuk came into Hyungwon’s dressing just before he was meant to get out and work at the bar. Hyungwon always had all of his makeup, unlike Minhyuk, whose stuff was usually collected by Kihyun who hated carrying extra weight. Hyungwon was too lazy to sort his stuff out and just brought his five-kilogram cosmetic bag everywhere.

Which was why Minhyuk always came to him when something on his face was missing, like a sparkly eyeliner that served as a great addition to the black light lines in the corners of his eyes. Glitter was everything. Glitter was important.

He pushed Hyungwon off the chair and sat in front of the mirror instead, and the taller man didn’t even mind, he never minded anything Minhyuk did.

“I need your makeup babe, stand there for a while.” Minhyuk said and rummaged through the other man’s bag. Hyungwon sat on the long black wooden table and smiled. It was a weird dreamy smile. It wasn’t the best sign, not from Hyungwon. He was probably drunk. Or high. Or worse.

“Hey, Minhyuk,” Hyungwon called, smile spreading further. Minhyuk squinted his eyes and carefully glanced at the other man. Hyungwon already pulled on the lower part of his costume and covered his torso with a white robe. He hadn’t started doing his hair yet. “I was thinking.”

“It’s never good when you think.” Minhyuk got back to finishing his flawless eye makeup. Words like fabulous and magnificent fitted him really well – they carried no lies. Everyone could see it, even if they were too lazy to learn a thing about makeup.

“I want to invite Wonho for dinner?” Hyungwon’s voice cracked into a high-pitched question at the end, and Minhyuk’s hand froze mid-air.

He turned to look at the tall man (that still had the same dreamy dopey smile) and quirked his eyebrow. “Like, now?”

“Next week. Maybe Thursday? So he can stay overnight and go to work with me.” Hyungwon faced Minhyuk, and the smile on his lips was pretty terrifyingly stupid.

“Wow, you’ve really got it going. But yeah, the man’s whipped for you, he will agree with no hesitation.” Minhyuk huffed out a laugh, and Hyungwon chuckled with his mouth close.

“I think so too. But he’s so cute, you know? We spent this entire week together, and he’s really nice to talk to. He’s also so fit, like? So good-looking. I think I like him.” Hyungwon smiled more and looked down, suddenly shy at having confessed his feelings.

Minhyuk smiled too. It was a good thing for Hyungwon to be honest with himself. “That’s good.” He put the eyeliner down and got up, standing in front of the other man and trapping him between his arms as he leaned on the table and moved closer. “Tell me how it goes later.” He grinned and looked somewhere below Hyungwon’s eyes, and the other man smiled.

“You’ll be the first to know.” He leaned forward just enough for Minhyuk to close the distance and leave a slight quick peck on his lips.

“Looking forward to your performance tonight.” Minhyuk quickly licked over his tint-covered lips and left the room. People never changed, but Hyungwon was doing his best to become be more honest with himself and move on with his attachment issues or whatever it was he claimed he developed.

 

Jooheon told him Wonho’s stage was coming next, and Minhyuk went to find a free spot somewhere among busy laps. Hyungwon was probably going to watch from behind the stage, so it was Minhyuk’s job to enjoy the buff man’s performance to the full. Wonho was cool. The good type of cool that just drew one in and made one want to talk to him and hear his opinions, and the fact that he was genuinely good-looking was just a huge bonus.

Minhyuk watched him from afar for the past weeks they had been working together. Wonho was… desperately and, perhaps, undyingly in love with Hyungwon, and it was ridiculously obvious. Minhyuk got it – where the affection could come from, why it developed and how it could possibly go further, but life rarely rose up to expectation, and Minhyuk didn’t want to overthink. He wasn’t Kihyun – he never felt lonely just because he received less attention from one person he used to receive attention from. In simple terms, he wasn’t jealous, never had been, and never would. But it was hard to get rid of this tugging urge to overprotect and attack whatever aimed to disturb the routine, and Minhyuk tried hard to deafen his mind and focus on the thick red lighting that shadowed the stage.

Crimson swallowed the entire room, Rihanna’s vocals filled the space, and Wonho blinded the entire club population with his majestic appearance in the bright yellow spotlight. ‘S&M’, tight red leather pants with zippers and tiny holes all over for the stripping tricks, thick leather harness with spikes on his shoulders and chest, and a fucking whip in his hands, like Wonho needed to visualize the song any more than he already had. He started immediately when the song began, and went full hip thrusting when the beat dropped and the singer preached with her ‘na na na, come on’, and Wonho’s facial expression was painfully sexy with his lip bite and frowned eyebrows, and it was obvious from the way he moved vastly and widely that he had enough confidence to sip it with a ladle.

The verse was more laid-back, and Wonho was showing off his ripped torso and elastic spine with body waves and grinds into the air, and his face was ecstatic, with his smirk in one corner of his mouth and a lip bite in the other, and his eyes clearly danced with naughty little sparkles. He descended on his knees and stroked over his formed abdomen and full chest, and he was so damn thick and bulging it was breathtaking, quite literally so. The light played in the bumps of his muscles and emphasized the incredibly built structure of his body, and Minhyuk wanted the other’s pants off.

The chorus hit, Wonho got up and continued his simple ministrations with the hips and arms, only this time adding the whip to the equation and slapping the stage floor with enough strength to hear it, and it took an unbelievable amount of skill to do that and not hit the guests sitting and standing the closest to the stage. The second half, repeat of the words, _‘Cause I may be bad but I’m perfectly good at it_ , Wonho climbed the poll and forgot the world around him existed as he basked in the spotlight and the kinky lyrics, mouthing them and moving to the beat, and he was the wildest creature Minhyuk had ever seen, so free in the chains around his body and big in the tight leather on his legs.

He got down, put the whip on the ground and got back to the middle, looking high and blissed out as he snaked on one place to the beat, before he slowly wrapped his hands around his thighs and undid the zipper. He ripped the fabric off his legs and remained in the tiniest booty shorts, so little they only reached up to his round plump ass and rode up every time Wonho pushed his hips back and wiggled, and Minhyuk felt solidary with other men that had to keep their hands in place and not go up there and spread the thick halves and see what’s in between, because Wonho was the kind of sexy people wanted to have on their hands. He was so open and revealing, he was shameless and so easy to possess, especially when he bit his lip almost painfully and looked around with his eyes hooded, hair wet and legs spread out as he grinded on the floor on his stomach, only holding himself up with the strong shaped arms. He was so good when he took the whip and teased as he slid it up his ass and patted it slightly, grinning like he knew the entire population of the club wanted to do the same, and it gave Minhyuk a huge whiplash when Wonho suddenly got up and threw the whip away like it was rubbish, expression suddenly serious and dangerous. He mouthed the lyrics with his upper lip curved upwards in a similar expression to disgust, like the men were bugs and he was a god, and it was terrifyingly arousing the way he stroked over his crotch area and brought his fingers to his mouth. He was missing a ball gag, Minhyuk thought. He was bad, so bad, but he was so perfectly good at it.

Wonho’s chest was already wet from sweat, his thigh were shaking hard with the intense movements, and his knees were red from grinding on the floor so much, and he was so good in all his controversies, his looks filled with power and tiny details that made Minhyuk want to possess him, put him on a leash and drag him around. Wonho pulled on his harness and let it slap his skin, he ruffled his hair, he moaned with his entire face, and it was only the best release for the sex-filled atmosphere of the club when he turned around on the last beat, back facing the main area, reached for his crotch, grabbed the red leather fabric and ripped it from his body, exposing the black leather harness that trapped his hips and held his ass up, and his flesh was so pale and meaty, and it was the last thing Minhyuk saw before the light went to black.

Minhyuk was glad that he didn’t have to deform his groin to fit into femme clothing that night, because Wonho had enough skills in his entire body to make Minhyuk aroused. And he was yet to watch Hyungwon later. Working in the club was always an exciting experience. He loved it and never in the past several years had he been disappointed enough to quit.

 

Wonho leaned on the dark navy wall backstage as he tried to catch his breath. It was his first solo in a while, first in Monrex, and first that he considered a real fucking competition. Hyungwon was going to go out soon. He was so nervous. He knew he did well, he did fucking amazing, really, he even picked up some cash and hid it under the harness on his shoulders, but the relief and release that took over his body when he was on stage was immediately drowned in anticipation and anxious excitement for the other man’s performance.

The harness underwear covered his crotch, and he still had his shoes on, so Wonho decided against going up to the dressing room to cover himself in case he missed Hyungwon’s entrance. He had to stay backstage to watch the whole thing, but it was alright – he just needed to stand on the lowest step and stretch his neck to be able to see everything on the front stage. He wasn’t visible anyways, it was impossible to see him from the audience, so it wouldn’t cause much trouble for him to act like a crazy fanboy and peek from behind.

Namjoon approached him and slumped by the wall too. “You did well, man.” He raised his hand in a handshake, and Wonho breathed out a laugh before replying to the gesture.

“Thank you. Honestly, thank you for the opportunity, I loved doing that.” He nearly evened out his breathing and could finally express how grateful he was for what Namjoon did for him.

“I knew you were good, so it was only natural. You cold down there?” He looked down, and Wonho automatically went to cover his crotch with his hands.

“It’s alright, I’m really hot anyways, so I wouldn’t mind a little bit of wind.”

They laughed about it together, absolutely unassuming that the wind would be called Hyungwon who just flew past them towards the backstage stairs, and Wonho barely found it in himself to not choke on air. Hyungwon was wearing black. Full black. Full body black latex suit. Tight, thin and glassy. Black fucking latex and black huge high-heeled shoes that reached his knees.

But it wasn’t even the cherry on top. If Wonho didn’t have that many opportunities to study the general outline of Hyungwon’s body, he wouldn’t have guessed that the man in front of him was his crush. He was wearing a wig, a black wig that reached his shoulders with black square bangs that covered his eyebrows, and it was the hottest and the most confusing thing Wonho had ever seen.

Hyungwon’s body was so impossibly flat and tight in the material, and every little muscle curve on his stomach was visible, and his ass halves moved with every step, and his legs were the longest pieces of latex sticks, but he looked to good. So fuckable as well. Gosh, Wonho was getting tingly all over his body, and they were both in the dark of their backstage corridor. Wonho had to brace himself for what was about to happen on stage. Hyungwon wasn’t kidding when he said he had to work harder, he really went all out to compete in a one-sided competition. It was funny, really, how Wonho was focused on undressing and showing as much of his skin as physically possible without seeming too vulgar, but Hyungwon went to fight him in a full body latex suit and a wig, and the whole idea seemed to obscene and ridiculous that Wonho knew – everyone would explode. It didn’t matter what Hyungwon wore, he was always the one to raise the most boners that pecked on aesthetic and higher pleasures. Wonho already felt it on himself. Hyungwon was the definition of the higher good.

The stage went black, Namjoon whisper-shouted a strained ‘good luck!’ and Hyungwon climbed up, into the dark of hunger and sex he was about to provide. Wonho approached the steps right when a familiar tune of high string and synth filled the space, and he would have shook his head at the other man’s obsession with old pop songs, but lost all his ability to think when Hyungwon’s latex-clad tall figure got illuminated, and he swayed his hips fast in time with the ‘Toxic’ melody, and that was the end of Wonho.

Hyungwon took an image and made it his, took Wonho’s heart and made it his, gathered all the attention and never felt sorry about it, and he didn’t have to feel repentant to anything when he danced in high black glassy heels and moved just enough to round up his ass and show off the perfection that was his body. The black wig bounced around whenever Hyungwon moved, hair got into his face and messed chaotically at the back, but it didn’t matter when on _Too high, can’t come down_ he crawled from the center of the stage to the side and grabbed the pole, still on his knees, and even though Wonho couldn’t see his face, he could already guess the kind of expression he formed to drive the entire world crazy. He wrapped his whole body around the pole and spun and spun, carelessly and without much thought, and it was the hottest thing ever. It didn’t matter whether Hyungwon knew what he was doing – he was desirable either way, aggressively and passionately, tentatively and fearfully. Everything was always about him.

He cat walked from one end to another, hands limp and swaying sassily just as he moved his impossibly long legs in wide steps, knees straight and hips swinging so fucking attractively. The black latex hugged the curve of his slim waist and the worked out hips like second skin, and his tight firm ass served as a magnet for slaps. It was impossible to resist, it was so hard to look at something other than Hyungwon’s legs and hips, and they didn’t need to see his haughty little face behind all that fake hair. He wasn’t even doing anything particularly special but it was him that did it, and it was his body that was so perfect for the ridiculous kinky costume, and it was the fact that he never undressed himself that made him so impossibly hot.

Wonho felt bugs running down his body to his stomach and further, and the thick leather underwear suddenly seemed like a really bad idea, but there was nothing he could do. He was frozen in his arousal and amazement, watching Hyungwon fuck the pole and pick dirty banknotes with his front teeth, and Hyungwon bent down, and ruffled his long fake hair, and smirked playfully, and it was deadly sexy. Only Hyungwon could turn Wonho on with his cliché gestures.

And how hard was it to hold himself back when Hyungwon dropped down on his back and withered on the ground to the bridge, arching his spine and legs moving with no apparent control, and Wonho had to bite on his lower lip to not give himself away; Namjoon was still somewhere behind him.

Hyungwon finally went down to teasing at the end of the song when he pulled the zipper on his chest down and licked over his lips, not pulling the sides out and showing just the tiniest piece of skin. He stroked over his still mostly clothed stomach before pulling the zipper back up and down again, fast, playful in the most ridiculously child manner. He quickly got bored of it and just pulled the sides apart, revealing his flat bony chest and black round nipple pasties, and Wonho would have rolled his eyes at the unoriginality but was too invested in keeping his body in control before Hyungwon dropped on his knees and the light turned off with the final beat.

And with that the show was done, leaving Hyungwon even more glorious than he already was and Wonho with a boner.

He slumped by the wall and tried to catch his breath, even though he wasn’t the one performing, and waited for Hyungwon to come down the stage. Namjoon stood somewhere next to him, motionless and frankly shaken to the ground. Wonho looked down; there was a tent in his suit pants. He whistled with an incredulous look in his eyes and turned towards the stage when he heard heels clacking, and a very hurried and distressed Hyungwon ran down the stairs, throwing his wig away.

“Oh my fucking god,” he uttered in a strained voice, “my dick is sweating!” he exclaimed and ran to the wall and pressed his forehead to the cool surface, back facing Wonho and Namjoon, and his hands immediately rummaged fast with something in the area of his groin. “Fucking hell,” he whispered and slid down the top half of his latex suit, hanging it uselessly around his hips. His back was wet from sweat, and Wonho glitched when he traced the way his narrow shoulder muscles moved with the fast movements of his arms as he hurriedly tried to save his organ from the unnatural position between his legs and get it out of the suffocating suit.

Then Hyungwon hoarsely moaned and let go of one hand, while the other still remained lying on top of his crotch, and it was a comic situation, really. Wonho and Namjoon stood behind him with boners in their pants (or leather underwear for that matter) while Hyungwon stormed into the backstage and nonchalantly threw half of his costume off, dick out and breathing hard. Good thing he was facing his back and Wonho had no opportunity to see what was really hiding underneath all that tight latex, otherwise he might have snapped. In his head. Wild fantasies, and all that.

“Good job today.” Namjoon said in a strangely stiff voice, and Hyungwon pulled the suit a little up, turning around and smiling. His face and chest were sweating too, his hair was a wet mess half-covered in hair pins, but he still looked gorgeous and horrifyingly hot, especially with the top half of the suit undone.

“Thanks.” Wonho might have imagined it, but he was pretty sure he saw the other man scanning him up and down, before giving a tiny wave and running in the direction of his private dressing.

 

Life was nothing short of unusual.

Not only did Hyungwon ask him to come to the dance studio later today (they just finished their Sunday shift, and the time had already moved on to early Monday morning) when they sat outside the club smoking, but also talked to him about stuff that concerned him. They were like friends now.

Hyungwon was a competition dancer and choreographer and he texted him about an hour before Wonho got into his car to drive all the way to the school that he would finish slightly later as he had to start giving up extra time to help kids with their dances, be it solos, duos, groups and whatnot. Wonho was curious. He had never actually seen the other teach. Mainly because Wonho was too embarrassed to come right when the all students gathered to go home, because he was a little bit shy of young children and teenagers and felt out of place. But if he came before Hyungwon finished with his classes, maybe he could witness the side of the man he liked he had yet to open and at the same time not be disturbed by a bunch of toddlers (and arrogant teenagers).

So there Wonho was, climbing up the stairs to the first floor of dance rooms when he realized he had absolutely no idea where Hyungwon was meant to be. The classes were still going, and peeking into the closest window Wonho could see a random woman helping a bunch of kids with their stretching, and it was definitely not where Hyungwon was supposed to be. Spinning around like a lost puppy, Wonho’s eyes finally landed on a piece of paper attached to the wall next to the staircase, and he clicked his fingers in realization – schedule. They had the same thing in the club, so it should have been easy for him to read.

He scanned all the columns, looking for the familiar name, but appeared a bit lost as surnames were always first, and Wonho’s mental bulb lighted up at the thought that he never learned the other’s full name – no one really referred to him by his surname, and he never saw any of his official documents. The reveal was coming.

And there he was. Chae Hyungwon, class twenty-one, nine p.m. to ten thirty p.m. Chae. That was a nice name, a really nice name. Wonho smiled to himself and scanned his surrounding again. Twenty-one probably meant the second floor, like in hotels, so he ran up another flight of stairs and immediately saw a bunch of mothers and grannies crowding the space in front of one of the dance rooms, and Wonho walked all the way there just because his instincts told him to do so. And he was correct. Approaching the crowd, he could hear muffled but distinct count that undoubtedly belonged to Hyungwon, and Wonho shamelessly snaked between the people filling the corridor to get a space by the window, and he didn’t even feel embarrassed at being the only young man there when he saw the usual tall and pretty Hyungwon standing by the mirror and clapping to the beat, shouting ‘one, two, three, four’ and distraughtly brushing his hair back followed by the remark such as ‘lift your leg, get on the beat, faster, slower, listen to me’.

It was a whole new side indeed. Hyungwon only really shouted at Minhyuk, because they were close and they were allowed to scream in each other’s faces, but seeing Hyungwon single-handedly controlling an entire room of thirty kids between nine and eleven years of age was a whole different story. He wasn’t harsh but he was direct, his claps were loud and his counting distinct, and it was sexy. Hyungwon was sexy even when he was standing in place in his typical black sporting attire and trying to make sense of the dancing mess that was happening in front of his eyes. Wonho admired him with an open mouth, until Hyungwon clapped particularly loudly and announced the end of the lesson, wiping sweat off his forehead.

Kids all left the room in a noisy hoard, running to their respective mothers and other caretakers, and Wonho waited for everyone to disappear before he could reveal himself to the other man in the door entrance. Hyungwon finished downing his bottle of water, as if he was the one dancing for an hour and a half straight, and picked up with phone from the ground and only then noticed a grinning Wonho right by the door.

“Oh, Wonho, hey.” Hyungwon smiled, and they went towards each other to do the greeting hug they somehow ended up doing every time they met, whether in the club or here at the dance school. “You got here earlier.”

“Yep, wanted to see you teach for a while, not gonna lie.” He smiled back, and Hyungwon lightly punched him on the shoulder.

“You stalker.”

“Hey, I wasn’t the only one,” Wonho exclaimed with an offended expression on his face, “These mothers seem to have a particular interest in you too.”

Hyungwon chuckled, and Wonho felt himself blushing as he just realized the accidental ‘too’ he wasn’t meant to say. Hyungwon didn’t seem to pay much attention to it though. “They always come to watch their kids dance, I just go as a bonus.”

“A nice bonus then.” Wonho wanted to slap himself for this sudden outright flirting, but Hyungwon just smiled and walked deeper into the room.

“I actually wanted to discuss my new routine with you, I’m thinking about giving it a go for the competition. What do you think? Want to be my private critic?” He raised an eyebrow with a suspicious grin and stood in front of the stereo, connecting his phone to the system.

“I don’t mind. Doubt I can really judge, but I’ll gladly watch you.” With that he sat down by the mirror.

“It’s called ‘Walk With the Noise’ by IAMX, have you heard of them?” Hyungwon asked and turned around to look at him.

“Possibly, sounds familiar.”

“Alright. Just watch it then.” He pressed play, and the light electro beat commenced the song.

Watching Hyungwon dance wasn’t the highlight of his day, strangely. Sure, the dance was unusual, a mix of contemporary and techno and even hip-hop, it wasn’t fully worked out, but it was still good, just like everything Hyungwon did, even to a song as creepy as that one. But when he laid in his bed later that night, the only thing he could remember was when they stood in the parking lot, in the dark, in their usual spot where they always parted ways to their cars, because Wonho still didn’t learn to park his baby in the right direction.

Hyungwon was so beautiful, like he always was. Maybe it was because Wonho only had five hours of sleep after a crazy night at the club before his day work, or maybe because Hyungwon looked extremely kind and welcoming and like he wanted to say something, but Wonho couldn’t resists the next words that slipped past his lips:

“Do you want to grab some food?”

Hyungwon curved his eyebrows as if he needed to make sure he heard the words correctly. “Now?” then he smiled, and it seemed a little apologetic. “I’m sorry, but I can’t have food after eleven,” he pouted and pressed a hand to his stomach that was covered by a black puffy jacket, “you know, dancer’s diet and all that.”

Wonho felt bad and tried to reassure that he was fine with a rejection. “Oh, that’s alright—“

“But how about a proper dinner later this week? At my place? Is Thursday okay with you?” Hyungwon smiled, and Wonho’s heart dropped, because it was an invitation for a date. Thursday, dinner, his place. Right before their Friday shift. Holy shit.

“Of course, yeah.” He agreed a little bit too eagerly and felt a sting of tears in his eyes. Hyungwon invited him on the date.

“That’s great then. I’ll text you all the details later.” He smiled and turned around. “I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon.” Wonho muttered on his last breath before he really felt like crying and ran back to his car. That was so unreal he couldn’t believe it for a very long time.

Until he got home, realized what happened, realized he was a little bit of a pussy and was made a move at instead of the other way round, and texted Hyungwon with another brilliant idea.

‘wanna come to my yoga class on wed?’  
‘all for free just for you’

Hyungwon replied almost immediately with ‘I’d love to’, and Wonho squealed into his pillow, hitting his mattress and rumpling his blanket.

 

Wonho had a lot of amazing qualities, but perhaps his butt was one of the best of them.

Hyungwon was kneeling on all fours at the back of the other man’s blue-walled, women-filled yoga classroom, and tried to discreetly take occasional peeks at Wonho’s round plump butt that looked absolutely appetizing and saliva-stimulating from that angle. They were practicing that cow-cat pose, standing on all four limbs and arching and curling their spines, and Wonho did his absolute most to push his hips as far as possible, right into Hyungwon’s span on attention, right into his mind. If he weren’t surrounded by this many mentally pure little women around him, he would have complemented the look of it. Except it was against his dating ethic, and he was respectful of other people's boundaries. 

The class ended, Wonho squeezed a couple of small feminine hands as a goodbye, see you next time, and turned to Hyungwon, smiling teasingly. “You seemed to enjoy yourself today.”

The funny thing about Wonho was that he was not an open flirt, even though he had a huge potential to be one. He was handsome, had a great body, and most importantly, he had a crush on Hyungwon, who was very obviously open from all angles. But it took him a confirmation in a form of a dinner date invitation from Hyungwon’s side to finally find affirmation in his feelings. It was funny, from one point of view – they were both adult gay men with lots of experience in different aspects of life, but Wonho was way too respectful and careful, and Hyungwon was dealing with commitment issues that only Minhyuk could shoo away with his simply-worded but effective speeches. On the other hand, Hyungwon was overflowing with trust and attraction for the other man and wanted to get laid, because it was time to start a new stage of life after so many months of only having Minhyuk and Kihyun by his side. It wasn’t a bad thing – having a routine, but lying to his heart had never brought him anywhere good, so he had to take a step further.

Hyungwon was also undeniably drunk in the middle of the day (evening), because alcoholism never evaporated just like that without a trace, and habits remained. He felt a little awkward coming over to a place filled with ladies (and Wonho) in fitted leggings, so he took on a mission to get rid of some of the stress and brace himself for what was coming, preferably a confession or even a kiss on a cheek from the other man, because what Hyungwon searched in men was honesty, eagerness and open-mindedness, and if Wonho genuinely had feelings that went beyond simple explanations, then Hyungwon was ready to jump on a bandwagon of a relationship. Commitment lines were always blurry, so this was something that could be dealt later, or not dealt with at all. Minhyuk could do all the talking.

They had a very light dinner before simultaneously driving up to the dance school in their respective cars, and Wonho sat through all three hours of classes with Hyungwon, waiting for him to finish his work and even extra rehearsals with particularly struggling students. Wonho was nice, like the good type of nice. He was willing to sacrifice his free time on Hyungwon, watch him dance, stretch and tear hair out from his scalp with the inability to create an original move sometimes, and it was something he really appreciated. Really.

The interesting yet sad thing about humans was that they never loved wholeheartedly. They had feelings, but they weren’t anything special. They were always built on something. It was rare to find someone who could just rip his heart out of his chest for the person he loved, and Hyungwon sometimes felt sorry for himself for being that kind, but there wasn’t much he could do. He always thought it was a waste of human heart to make oneself feel nothing just to never feel anything at all. The choice was always between sticking with the familiarity until it got boring or learning to tolerate emotional, prejudice-induced pain that always took ages going away. Hyungwon’s past lovers weren’t particularly delicious in their spiritual, inner world, and Hyungwon sometimes quirked his eyebrows in the most impossible ways possible at his old prospects and how ridiculous they were. He hoped Wonho wasn’t ridiculous too.

At that point at night, the effect the alcohol usually had on his thinking and vision already wore off, and when the cool breeze hit his face as they left the building together, Hyungwon realized. They were going on a date. Well, the third and the most exciting part of their date, because it was late, dark, chilly, and they had a spark flying between the two of them, even as they illegally raced through the roads to the park to have a late night walk there before they had to part ways to their own homes and practice the performances for the upcoming weekend. It was hilarious. They had uncalled dates like middle school kids, or rather, like forty-year-old dog owners that bonded over their love for cute Dalmatians. They just missed a Cruella de Vil to poop all the fun and steal some of their happiness.

In the streetlamp light, Wonho’s face was glowing a pretty orange, and he seemed even warmer than he usually was. He talked about some cool tricks he still remember how to do from his taekwondo days that he could perform on the pole, and Hyungwon was staring at his mouth, his crazily pink and soft-looking lips that pouted with every vowel he muttered, his small pretty teeth, his wide open-mouthed smiles. He laughed lowly when his sense of humor was just warming up, and then his voice cracked into high-pitched melodic giggles when he genuinely laughed, and Hyungwon was happy he knew so many cringe-worthy puns and dad jokes he heard from his grandfather a long time ago.

It was fascinating how despite being judged on the daily basis just for existing, Hyungwon’s sense of judgement was deadly absent. He appreciated people for what they were: whether they laughed wholly or superficially, whether they were enthusiastic about telling their stories, whether they ate seafood or detested it. Wonho enjoyed so many things in life too, such as eating late at night even though all the food stalls were closed and Hyungwon never ate after classes because he had to keep at least something from his old academy days, and the other man always carried a snack or two in his bag. Wonho also had a fashion style that Hyungwon wouldn’t really wear because he was still a man of taste and could distinguish bad from good, but he appreciated the confidence and carelessness the other possessed, as well as his padded leather jackets and how well he tolerated such horrible cold at night. Or at least pretended to. His hands were clenched in fists and shaking, and Hyungwon would have found it endearing if he didn’t feel the same way.

They sat on the bench, freezing their asses off, and as much as Hyungwon loved tumbling over his legs and fall on the closest surface underneath when he was deadly tired with all the work and dancing, he would never in a thousand years accommodate himself on the grass that was still dirty and damp from all the melted snow that was evaporating one millimeter a week, but Wonho had absolutely different opinions to his. Or he didn’t. Perhaps Wonho was an even easier man than Hyungwon, and caring about the state of his jeans was never something he considered doing when he dropped on the ground and said he’d stay there and die of hypothermia if Hyungwon didn’t join him, and there was no meaning in the sentence or the action. Wonho didn’t give things meanings; he just did whatever he thought could bring them closer, because he was maybe just a little bit shy and desperate and would rather perish into the earth core than face rejection. And Hyungwon wasn’t going to give rejection.

The whole day was filled with sexual tension, and Hyungwon knew they both knew it. Maybe Wonho was a little taken aback at first when Hyungwon showed the signs of interest, but it was understandable, because Hyungwon was heavily prejudiced towards men he had crushes on and didn’t trust their brains and all that jazz so he gave himself time to just understand what the fuck he wanted. Wonho was easily impressionable but he wasn’t dumb, and Hyungwon knew he had a crush back, so they all tried to lube their way through this date analyzing each other and predicting the outcome of this day, and Hyungwon had a little bit of an idea.

“It’s so fucking cold, I’m not sitting on the ground with you!” Hyungwon complained, and Wonho visibly shivered but tried to remain composed.

“You can,” he hummed in thought about his next words, “lie,” he sat up, hair ruffled and face innocently cute, like he was fifteen and not twenty five, “on me?”

Hyungwon huffed out an incredulous laugh. It was funny how long it took them to get on with it, how careful Wonho’s flirting was when he really wanted something he doubted in getting, even though deeply inside he knew he would, and just how whipped Hyungwon was. His heart was beating faster when he looked at the man on the ground. He had it coming, and because he was always a wholehearted man, he knew he had it coming and tried to resist it. But Wonho deserved so much more than just a little bit of his heart. He deserved a lot of it.

“Fine, I’ll do you a favor.” He walked the two meters that separated them and plopped on top of Wonho’s thick thighs that could accommodate his entire kneeling pose. His face was still unfairly higher than Wonho’s, and he decided to spare the other man and put his knees on the deadly cold ground and straddle the warmer (although still cold) lap, immediately putting his arms over Wonho’s shoulder, and it was nice like that. Not a soul was in the park. Hyungwon could allow himself to stare into the black sparkling eyes of the other man he could barely see in the heavy darkness of the night, and it was enough. Wonho was looking into his as well, probably contemplating life and thinking about things that slowed his hormones down, because the position was not in any way platonic and could cause an understandable reaction. Hyungwon wanted someone new by his side. Wonho was looking into his eyes, maybe not yet through them and beyond him, but he didn’t have to just yet. Hyungwon would give him a lot of opportunities to do that. He liked Wonho, and it was as if Wonho liked him back just like that too, just for his existence. That would have been nice.

Hyungwon leaned down and stopped a centimeter before the other man’s lips, breathing out huffs of air, and the cold tips of their noses touched, and Wonho lowered his eyes, taking in the last of his thoughts and expectations and trying out the reality. He pressed his lips to Hyungwon’s cold and probably really dry ones, because the cold always hated him and made his skin crumble to pieces when he licked too much over his lips to wet them at least a little, but Wonho didn’t seem to mind. The interesting thing about mutual kissing was that it was always expected, and it only took a second to let the realization sink in that the cutest and the most romantic part of the date was set off, and the process could finally begin.

Hyungwon really liked kissing. Mainly because he had enough lips to entertain the other men for a very long time, and because nothing got him going as much as opening his mouth and licking over the other person’s lips, searching for the most interesting parts to play with. Wonho’s were so soft and not as cold, and they had the cutest outline that curved in all the right places. Wonho opened his mouth too and allowed their tongues to connect, and Hyungwon licked over it before closing his lips around the other’s bottom one and sucking on it gently, tasting the very light taste of a chocolate cereal bar Wonho had before. The other adjusted, pressing his own top lip on Hyungwon’s and tongue tracing the outline from the inside, exploring all the interesting curves he had, paying a lot of attention to the tubercle in the middle, finally testing the way it always stood out.

In a way, kissing was always like dancing to Hyungwon. Both had genres, pace, meaning, performance, and if he could judge what kind of dance the first date kiss would be, then it would be lyrical: emotional from the part of the song and the dance, occasional quick steps to slower music and freedom of expression. Their tongues were bodies, their smacks were the beat, and they moved harmonically and out of key, synchronizing and falling out, and it was beautiful just the way it was. Hyungwon bit into Wonho’s lower lip, loving how gentle and plump his lips actually were, and Wonho released the first breathy sound, clutching the hands around Hyungwon’s thick black parka harder that wasn’t even what held his body warmth inside. It was the tender thumping in his chest that kept him going and made him forget about the horrible weather for just a moment, it was the warm wet mouth that fell into rhythm with his and gave up as much effort, and it was also the thought that Wonho enjoyed it as much as Hyungwon did.

The thought that Wonho could make it all work again warmed him from the depth of his fluttering heart.

**Author's Note:**

> hmu on twt @chaeleggiewon


End file.
